


The Show Must Go On

by likehandlingroses



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-29
Updated: 2017-11-28
Packaged: 2018-03-20 06:33:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 35,197
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3640338
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/likehandlingroses/pseuds/likehandlingroses
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cruella Feinberg's sudden interest in her step-daughter's after school theater comes as a shock to many, particularly the newly hired "Miss Ursula"- a vocal teacher recently back in town after a succession of failed pursuits at stardom. With both women struggling to escape their disappointing circumstances, the rekindling of old feelings and fears draws them into a new task: to repair their damaged past.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Cruella wasn’t an especially careful driver in the best of circumstances. She could admit that. But after a screeching stop that just barely prevented her from slamming into a family out for an evening walk, she forced herself to pull over and regain some semblance of composure. The whole thing was so abysmally _stupid_. At this point, nothing that wretched woman did should have come as a surprise to her. And yet, every time this sort of thing happened, she found herself seething.

Her phone buzzed, and she groaned at the number before answering.

“Yes, d-”

“Are you on your way?” Her husband’s clipped voice cut over her greeting.

“Yes, I told you I was! Well, I’m pulled over now, but-”

“Why would you do that, you’re already late!”

“Because you called me!” she lied. “Cell phones and driving don’t mix, darling. And you know you told me not to get another ticket, so you really can’t blame me.”

“Just get over there, okay?”

“You know, every year I think that woman is going to start becoming an adult, and now it’s been four years and I’m still baffled by how little progress she has made.”

“Now is really not the time to have this conversation, Cruella. Just get Sofie and we can talk about it later.”

“No need to scold me. I’m not the one who bailed on my daughter last minute. That was her. Again and unsurprisingly, I might add.”

“Please, Cruella, just-”

“And you know, Robert, I don’t think I’m _allowed_ to pick her up. You know how Gold’s wife is about me, she’ll throw a fit. Can’t you get her?”

“I have a meeting. If you could just, for once, not hold this family hostage to your emotional episodes, that would be fantastic.”

“ _I’m_ holding everyone hostage? Your lover can’t pick up her own brat because she’s feeling a bit under the weather, and _I’m_ the one ruining everything?” Cruella gloried in her husband’s silence for a moment before hearing the phone click.

The bastard had hung up on her. Sighing, she restarted the car and made her way to the theater. The nearly empty parking lot in front of the red brick building assured her that there would be no grabbing the girl and leaving without an ordeal.

_If her damned mother had just bothered to call even an hour in advance_ …but that would require caring about her daughter, which Sara Lexington had never shown any real inclination of doing.

Thankfully, no one was waiting in the lobby to stop her before she even got to see the child. Bracing herself, she entered the theater. The poor girl was the last one there, sitting in the lonely second row of seats, being comforted by the sanctimonious Belle Gold.

“I’m sure she’ll be here any minute, she’s probably just caught in traffic.”

Sofie saw her first and leaped out of her seat. “But Mommy said she was coming today!”

“Change of plans. Sorry I’m late, it was all very last minute. Why don’t you get your things?”

While Sofie scrambled to gather everything into her backpack, Cruella couldn’t help but notice the narrowed eyes of Mrs. Gold.

“I take it my husband didn’t tell you she’d be coming with me, then?” Cruella asked.

“No, he didn’t. And I think I made it very clear that-”

“That I’m a nuisance and unwelcome presence here, yes, darling, you’ve been crystal on that point. But I’m afraid it couldn’t be avoided. Her mother has a back pain, you see, and my husband is working, so I’ve come to get her.”

“You’re not on the approved list for pick-ups, Mrs. Feinberg. I can’t let you leave the building with her.”

Cruella snorted. _God, she’s a piece of work._ “You can’t possibly be serious?”

Mrs. Gold’s attempts to look domineering and steely in her minute frame were almost endearing. “I am.”

Cruella plopped herself down in the closest seat and shrugged. “Have it your way. We’ll all wait here for two more hours, that’s fine.”

“Mrs. Feinberg-”

 “I am going to sit here and wait for my husband, and if you don’t like that you can go ahead and call the police and explain all of this to them. I’m sure they’ll find it very worth their time.”

“There a problem?” The woman’s voice came from backstage, and she emerged a moment later. Cruella’s chest tightened, and she swallowed back the retort she’d been planning.

_God_ , she was still beautiful. Although, just now, Ursula looked about as awed and confused as Cruella felt. She certainly hoped she wasn’t showing it so blatantly.

“Ursula! I didn’t realize they’d taken you on. What exactly do you do here?”

Ursula blinked in response, and Belle answered for her.

“She’s agreed to be our musical director for the company. And we’re very lucky to have her.”

 “Oh, of course! She’s got such a lovely voice. Not surprising, really, after her daddy spent so much money on it.”

“ _She’s_ Sofie’s mother?” Ursula asked Belle, completely ignoring her remarks. Cruella recovered from the blow quickly, rolling her shoulders back and aiming her voice at the far wall.  

“Well, well. Being the musical director of the local children’s theater has certainly made someone proud.”

Ursula rolled her eyes in response, and Cruella felt the sting from across the room. Her entire demeanor was hardly fair. Perhaps Cruella's remark had been petty, but none of what had happened before had been her damned fault.

“And just as a matter of interest, darling, she isn’t mine. Her father is my husband. For some reason, that’s not enough for me to be permitted to take her from this theater to the house where we all live. So here we all are.”

Still, Ursula didn’t even _look_ at her, and Cruella sunk at little in her seat, deflated and suddenly out of breath. She glanced at Sofie, who was staring at her hands, and felt a twinge of guilt. She ought to have kept calm for the girl’s sake.

Finally, another young woman with bright red hair scuttled into the room.

“I’ve just got off the phone with Sofie’s dad, he called to let us know his wife was coming, and-oh! She’s here. Great.”

Mrs. Gold sighed. “All right, then. We’ll see you tomorrow, Sofie. Have a good evening.”

Sofie jumped from her seat and practically ran out of the theater, expressing a sentiment Cruella couldn’t agree with more.

“Perhaps next time we can save all the theatrics for opening night, hmm?” she said before waltzing out.

It wasn’t until she put the key in the ignition that she let herself indulge in the panic that had been creeping up on her for the past few minutes. Ursula…she’d never thought she’d see her again, and certainly not like that. She sat back and eyed Sofie from the rear view mirror.

“You didn’t mention you had a new musical director.”

“Yeah, Miss Ursula.”

“Ah.”

“Did you know her?”

“Oh, not really. It was a long time ago, you know.”

Thankfully, Sofie didn’t appear at all interested in probing further. “Oh. Are we gonna leave now?”

“Yes, yes, I just…give me one minute, darling.”

“Do you have to do the breathing thing that Dr. Hopper said?”

“Hm? No, no, I’m…I’m fine. We’re going now.”

She started the engine, and the hum of the car as she pulled out was oddly comforting. She looked back at Sofie.

“Now, you’re quiet today. You’re not upset with me, are you?”

Sofie shook her head. “Nope. I just thought Mommy was coming.”

Cruella held back a sigh. “Well, you know…she wasn’t feeling very well.”

She must not have injected the statement with much conviction, for Sofie didn’t look at all comforted by the probable lie. “I know. But I drew a picture for her today at school, and now she won’t even see it.”

“Well, she’ll see it next time you see her. What did you draw?”

“It’s me in the play with all the other Munchkins.”

“Munchkin? I thought you were going to be the little puppy dog…what’s its name?”

“Toto? No, that’s Lucy.”

Cruella narrowed her eyes. “That’s Mrs. Gold’s daughter, isn’t it?”

“Yeah. She got it because she’s the littlest.”

“Oh, yes. I’m sure it doesn’t have anything to do with her mother being the director and her father owning the building. And he does all the costumes too, doesn’t he? I’m sure they’ve got something horrendously indulgent planned. Bow around her neck, little black nose…they’re insufferable.”

Then something occurred to her. _Gold_. She nearly missed the turn into their neighborhood out of excitement.

“Go on into the house, darling, I have a call to make.”

Gold picked up after the first ring.

 “Cruella Feinberg…thought I might receive a complaint after what happened tonight. But I must say, I expected you to fume for a bit longer beforehand. It’s been what, twenty minutes?”

“On the contrary, darling. I called to offer my assistance. You see, after sitting in that theater for that circus show today, I realized that you’re in that back room, making costumes for fifty brats, all on your own. And, you know, you do the best you _can_ I’m sure, but I saw Pinocchio and the whole effect left something to be desired.”

“And you want to help me make costumes?”

“Well, I took several design classes in my time, and my husband-”

“-works in fashion, yes. I’m sure that knowledge will prove very applicable to the Wizard of Oz. What exactly do you want me to tell my wife about your sudden altruism?”

“Oh, don’t tell me you’re afraid of your _wife_ , darling. She’ll hardly have to see me, it’s really none of her concern.”

“Of course not. It’s hardly anyone’s business but your own that you’re planning on using a job at the costume department for a children’s production to spy on an old flame.”

Cruella closed her eyes in frustration. She should have known she couldn’t pull one over on him. Whatever else he might be, he was damned clever.

“I’m not sure I understand what you’re referring to.”

Gold laughed. “Oh, don’t you? I heard that a certain _Miss Ursula_ made an appearance during your little fiasco. That run in must have been a shock.”

“It was hardly a _run in_. I wouldn’t have noticed her if she hadn’t butted in. I certainly _hope_ I don’t see too much of her. She was abysmally rude. Wouldn’t even speak to me.”

“…of course. How silly of me,” Gold’s sarcasm seeped through the phone and made Cruella wince. “Well, come by the theater tomorrow, and I’ll see what I can do.”

He hung up before Cruella could extract any promises from him about keeping her motives to himself. Even as a thrill rushed through her, she wondered if she’d made the wisest choice. Apart from anything Gold might say, she wasn’t even sure if she wanted to see Ursula again. And even if she did…that didn’t mean it would come to anything good. Quite likely the opposite, in fact. But, as with many things, she had gone ahead and done it before thinking, and there was little left to do but let things fall as they would.


	2. Chapter 2

Thirty seconds into lunch with her father and Ursula was already in a staring match with her menu. That had to be a new record.

_Just go ahead and say it already-_

Her father coughed. “So, you, ah…you’ve decided you’re all right with teaching, then?”

_There it was._ She forced herself to look up at him. “I’m not a teacher, Dad. I’m a musical director.”

“All right,” her father smiled. “you’re not a teacher. I’m sorry. But, either way, this…this job…you’re happy with it?”

That was the question, wasn’t it? It was certainly better than working at the New York branch of her father’s sushi chain. Still, working at a theater for kids was a far cry from the success she’d hoped her vocal training would bring. But her father knew both of these things already, and they didn’t need to talk about them again over breadsticks.

“Yeah, it’s really good,” she answered. “Pays well. Lots of rich people in this town want to see their kids on stage, so it’s got great funding. And they’re nice kids, for the most part. We just started the Wizard of Oz right now, and they’ve done pretty well.”

“That’s good, I’m happy to hear it.” Her father was still smiling, but Ursula heard a note of disappointment in his voice, and it caused her to lose her appetite entirely.

“…so, I heard you’re renovating the restaurant,” she finally said, and she relaxed as her father’s eyes lit up. He would be off on the new subject for, hopefully, as long as it would take her to come up with an excuse to leave early.

Two minutes into his lecture on color schemes, her cell phone rang.

“It’s work,” she told her father, after scanning the number. “I’m sorry, I should take this…”

“Hey, Ursula, it’s Belle. I just wanted to let you know that we just finished getting the piano tuned for you, so that’s ready to use this afternoon.”

“Oh, great, thanks for getting to that.”

“It’s no trouble. Actually, I also wanted to run something by you before rehearsal…my husband has been looking for a new assistant for the costume department, and he asked me last night if I thought Mrs. Feinberg would be a good fit.”

Ursula stood up quickly and gestured to her father that she’d be outside.

 “I don’t really care for the choice,” Belle continued. “But he seemed to think she would do well and he knows costumes better than I do…so I thought we might as well give it a shot. Only I noticed that maybe there was something going on with the two of you, and if you’re not comfortable with her being here-”

 “No, no!” Though she was now safely outside the restaurant, Ursula’s head practically spun in a circle as she checked to make sure she was alone. “It’s…there’s nothing going on between us, it’s…I don’t care. If Gold needs the help, that’s-that’s fine.”

“All right! Good, I just wanted to make sure.”

“Thanks for that. I mean yesterday was kind of…we knew each other a long time ago and she’s- _herself,_ you know?” Ursula laughed too loudly. “But we’re, ah...we’re fine.”

“…all right. If you’re sure?”

“Absolutely! Don’t go firing anyone on my account.”

“Okay, then. I’ll see you this afternoon?”

Ursula glanced back at the restaurant door, trying to ignore the growing knot in her stomach. She’d wanted an excuse…

“Actually…I think I might head over there now. I have some sheet music to print off, and the piano to try out…is that all right?”

She barely listened to hear Belle’s response and goodbye as she made her way back in, trying to make her panic look professional.

“What was that about?” her father asked, watching her reach for her bag across the table.

“I’m sorry, Dad, I have to go. There’s a problem at the theater.”

“What kind of problem? It can’t wait?”

“No, it can’t, you see,” Ursula scrambled to think of a remotely believable excuse. “One of those helicopter type parents is at it, and apparently they’re threatening legal action. Which is ridiculous, but if we want to stop a fiasco, we’ve got to get on damage control.”

“And that involves you?”

“Well…yeah, I’m on the board of directors now, so I have to be there.”  

She could see that he didn’t believe her, but it was too late to stop lying now. She’d been developing the habit since she was sixteen.  After a quick hug, she raced out, as though the speed of her walk would assuage her guilt.

She was at the theater in a few minutes, and she took the backdoor into the building. There was only one person she was interested in seeing, and she knew by now Gold preferred the back room to anywhere else. 

 Sure enough, there he was, surrounded by fabrics and sketches.

“Ursula, you’re here early.” Gold always looked smug, but Ursula didn’t think she was imagining the extra level of self-satisfaction on his face. “What can I do for you?”

“Is she here right now?”

“And by ‘she’ you are referring to?”

“Cruella! Your wife told me you wanted her to work here.”

“And so I do,” Gold looked back down at a sketch of a winged monkey and grimaced. “She has quite a bit of training in the field, and this show is fairly costume intensive.”

“You don’t think I know what she’s doing?”

“Well, presumably she’s off buying felts, but I assume that’s not what you’re upset about.” Gold looked back up at her again, his grin undiminished by her obvious frustration.

“You think I’m going to believe she just _happened_ to decide she wanted to work for you after finding out I was here?”

“Believe whatever you like, it makes absolutely no difference to me.” Gold held up a hand to prevent Ursula’s retort. “Perhaps it may not look like it, but I am far too busy to mediate a lover’s quarrel, so if you have a question regarding Mrs. Feinberg’s motives, I suggest you talk to her yourself.”

“Oh, I will definitely be having a talk with _Mrs. Feinberg_.”

“Well, darling, it looks like I made it back just in time.”

Ursula spun around as her heart fell into her stomach. Cruella stood at the foot of the stairs, several bags in hand. After a moment of silence, she shrugged and strutted past Ursula to the work table, depositing the bags there.

“When you said to buy every color of the rainbow, I assume you didn’t want any of that garish pumpkin orange they sell. I refused to walk out of there with any of _that_.”

“Thank you,” Gold gave a cursory look at the purchases before eyeing Ursula. “I am going to run these sketches through the copier and get you a folder put together…excuse me…”

Cruella turned back to Ursula only after Gold was up the stairs and out of sight.

“Well? You wanted a talk. Let’s talk.”

Suddenly unnerved, Ursula took a deep breath before speaking. “I don’t know what you’re trying to accomplish with this stalking angle, but-”

“I’m sorry… _stalking_? This is a community program that my step-daughter is a part of, and I am giving of my time to assist them.”

“Something you had no interest in doing until I showed up.”

“Darling, I didn’t have an interest until I came here last night and remembered how _desperately_ disorganized it all is.  It’s completely incidental to them hiring you. Which, I must admit, did surprise me. Didn’t you insist that you’d never teach with that music degree of yours?”

She tilted her head with a smile, and Ursula responded to the provocation despite knowing better.

“I’m not a teacher. I’m a musical director.”

“You teach children to sing, darling. Let’s not wrap it up in pretty titles.”

Ursula should have stopped then, should have walked away. She _knew_ that. But the comment stung too much, and she couldn’t keep herself from striking back.

“What do you do all day, _Mrs. Feinberg_? Buy crap and pretend your husband isn’t screwing other people? Maybe, if you’re feeling really wild, you’ll complain to a customer service rep or send back your salad at brunch, just to feel that thrill of a social interaction where you _matter_. Because that’s why you married the guy, right? To be somebody important without having to do a damn thing. You wanna talk about bullshit titles, go right ahead.”

Ursula gloried in the fact that she’d wiped the grin off Cruella’s face, but the victory was undone when she realized the woman was trembling and her eyes were wide.

“Fuck you,” she whispered, and as she turned back to the table Ursula realized she’d cut too deep.

“Look, I…I shouldn’t have said that. I don’t know the guy. But you’re the one who came here and started this.”

“I didn’t start anything and you know it.”

“You mean six years ago? I don’t know what you want me to-”

“To talk to me!” Cruella slammed down the sketch book she’d been pretending to inspect. “To speak to me like I’m a person that you at least pretended to care about! You didn’t say anything, you just _left_. And now you’re treating me like I'm a nuisance for expecting some kind of explanation or-or response or _something_. And that’s not fair, and you know it isn’t. You _know_ that. You have to.”

Her eyes were fiery and she’d advanced so that she was only a foot or two away from Ursula, but even her fury couldn’t contain the underlying pleading in her voice. For a moment, Ursula felt herself softening, but she shoved the impulse down with unnerving ease.

“…I don’t need to prove to you that I have feelings, all right? I don’t need to talk to you about _anything_ , and I definitely don’t need to justify my actions to you. So if you want to sit down here and make costumes, be my guest. But we are not having therapy hour in the basement of the children’s theater. That isn’t happening. So just please stop with the victim complex, okay? I know it’s hard, I know the world has to revolve around you, but I got out of that cycle and have been very happy for six years, so maybe-”

“Have you?” Cruella said, her voice now steady as could be, and Ursula felt her stomach twist. “Have you really spent six years being _very happy_? Because, if I recall, the things you thought were going to make you happy…they haven’t happened for you. You’re back where you started…right here, in this little town. Still under Daddy’s thumb, I suspect, though I’ve always wondered if maybe you enjoy that sort of thing.”

“I enjoy having a family who gives a shit, if that’s what you mean.”

Cruella scoffed. “If you told him half of who you really were, Ursula, he’d go right back to pretending you don’t exist, and you know it.”

Gold entered before Ursula could reply.

“Sorry to interrupt, but the children have started arriving, and they’ll be wanting their music teacher.” Ursula tried desperately to ignore Cruella’s smirk at his comment.

“We’re done here anyway,” she said, and she walked up the stairs without another word.

Despite pretending not to care, Ursula could barely bring herself to go through the motions during rehearsal. She berated herself for ever thinking getting into an argument with Cruella would be a good idea. Now she was distracted, and she didn’t need to start looking incompetent in her first week on the job. To make matters worse, Ariel, who worked at the desk during drop off and pick up times, invited Ursula to help her sign children out. She could tell from the young woman’s face that she felt sorry for Ursula. Pity: another thing Ursula would have given anything to avoid. She accepted the offer anyway, and the first parent in the door was a harried looking man in a full piece suit.

“Hi, Mr. Feinberg!” Ariel said. “Sofie should be out pretty soon, they’re all getting their stuff together.”

“Thanks,” Mr. Feinberg glanced down at his phone screen and sighed. “You seen my wife?”

“No,” Ariel shook her head. “I know Gold had her running around town getting supplies-“

“Oh, she’s back,” Ursula said, rolling her eyes.

Mr. Feinberg looked up and chuckled. “So she’s already gotten people upset! I knew it would happen. She gets these…ideas in her head. I told her, ‘They don’t need help, Cruella. They’ve done half a dozen shows without your help. You’ll just be in the way,’ but she wasn’t having it. Once she starts on something, it’s just a total break from reality…you know, I’m convinced she’s borderline or something, I’ll tell you…”

Ursula narrowed her eyes. “Actually, Mr. Feinberg, Mr. Gold told me earlier he was very lucky to have her on his team. We can always use all the help we can get, and we had a nice talk today about her plans for the show.”

“Ah,” Mr. Feinberg nodded his head. “Well, I’m happy to hear it. But don’t be surprised if she starts going strange on you two weeks before opening night.”

Ursula clenched her hand into a fist. “Well, we’ll see…” _Fucking prick._

“There she is!” Mr. Feinberg looked frustrated at Cruella and Sofie’s entrance. “What took you so long?”

Cruella shrugged. “She was getting her things, that’s all.”

“Well, could we pick up the pace next time? I have to get back to the office after I drop her off, I told you that…where’s her jacket?”

This started an argument, and Ursula glanced over at Ariel, who shrugged.

“Happens all the time,” she said under her breath. “This is why Belle asked her to stop coming.”

“Why? Because _he’s_ an asshole?”

“I mean…she starts it too, sometimes. Plus, he’s the one who paid for the new light system...”

“Excuse me!” Cruella’s voice cut through their conversation. “Could you please tell my husband that we cannot have children sitting in the theater during production meetings?”

“I don’t have time to take her home now-”

“Well, you said you would, so you’ll just have to be late, won’t you?” Cruella looked back at Ariel and Ursula. “Will you please tell him?”

Ariel nodded. “She’s right, Mr. Feinberg. Sofie will be bored out of her mind just sitting there.”

“She’s got homework or something, right?”

“She’s six, Robert,” Cruella said. 

“So? Look, I have to go, just…watch her, okay? Don’t wait for me to start dinner.”

He practically ran out of the theater, leaving a very flustered Cruella standing next to Sofie, who had her jacket on inside out.

“Mrs. Feinberg,” Ariel said. “why don’t you just go for the day?”

Cruella turned towards her, eyebrows raised. “Already trying to get rid of me, are you?”

“No! No, it’s just that this meeting is really just about making sure we’re all on the same page, and since Mr. Gold will be there, he can just tell you what’s going on.”

Cruella pursed her lips. “If you’re sure…”

“Yeah, of course! Anyway, I take notes of everything on my laptop, so if you want I can email you those.”

“Please do, darling,” Cruella said, fixing Sofie’s jacket. “I won’t be shut out, you know. If I’m taking this job, I’m doing it properly.”

She eyed Ursula, who couldn’t help but smile.

“We’ll see you tomorrow,” she said as Cruella passed.

She came to a halt, her face filled with confusion for an almost imperceptible moment before changing to a collected grin that couldn’t quite mask the delight in her eyes.

 “Yes, darling. I suppose you will.”


	3. Chapter 3

**_Seven Years Ago_ **

Ursula glanced at her watch. Nine o’clock, and still no sign of Gold. Though the man had an irritating habit of showing up a few minutes late, just to keep people on their toes, Ursula had never known him to neglect a meeting for an entire hour. The three women in the booth sat in silence, and Ursula didn’t know how much longer she could stand it. She’d never met the two women sitting with her before, and she couldn’t imagine what Gold had planned to speak to them about.

“Some business endeavor, I assume,” the blonde one had said. She had already reserved a booth by the time Ursula arrived, and she coldly introduced herself as Mal Audley. She looked as though she might be pregnant, and just now she was picking at the Cesar salad she’d finally ordered.

To Ursula’s left was the woman who had waltzed in at half past eight, and it was her presence that made Ursula question Gold’s sanity. Her black and white hair and costume jewelry were nothing short of ridiculous, and she carried herself with the air of someone who wished to be far more important than she was ever likely to be.

“Cruella,” she said when sitting down, and she waved down the waiter for a drink without bothering to hear the names of her companions.

“Goodness, he _is_ late, isn’t he? I’d expected all the business talk to be over by the time I arrived. How disappointing.” After not receiving any reply, she too fell silent, occupying herself with her drink.

Perhaps it would have been better to engage her in conversation, as Ursula now watched in horror as the woman snatched her third drink from the waiter’s hand.

“Maybe you should eat something with that…”

Cruella looked at her, eyebrows raised. “Well, I would, but I simply can’t with that fish smell,” she said, eyeing Ursula’s plate of salmon with distaste. “It’s oppressive.”

 “I’m sorry, I didn’t realize I had to consult you before ordering.”

“Well, in view of the dish, it would have been considerate. I mean, this one is pregnant, she’s got to be nauseated-oh!” she pointed at Mal and leaned forward. “You _are_ pregnant, aren’t you?”

At her reluctant nod, Cruella sat back and sipped her drink. “You see?”

Mal sighed. “Is Gold even coming?”

 “Who cares?” Cruella asked. “He’s the sort of man who always has _plans_ , you know? And they’re always a waste of time.”

“So why did you even bother showing up?”

Cruella gestured to her glass. “Nice excuse to get out of the house, darling.”

“This is ridiculous,” Mal said, standing up. ”I’m calling him.”

“If he isn’t here, he’s probably either fallen down dead or he’s screwing someone. Either way, I don’t think he’s going to answer.”

Mal shot Cruella a nasty look before exiting. Cruella looked at Ursula, eyebrows raised.

“Do you know if she’s always like that, or is it just because she’s knocked up?”

“Never met her before today.”

Somehow, the silence felt worse when it was only two of them. Ursula kept her face glued to her plate, though every once in a while she could feel Cruella eyeing her. After the fourth time, she looked up. Cruella suddenly became preoccupied with the melting ice in her drink, one shaking hand stirring the chips with a straw.

Mal returned a few minutes later, looking even more displeased than before.

“He’s not coming. Apparently something else ‘came up.’”

Cruella snorted. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

Mal glared at her.

“You’re vile,” she said shortly. “I’m leaving.”

“Wait, so are we rescheduling?” Ursula asked as Mal collected her things.

 “You two can, if you’d like. But I’ve wasted enough time.”

She set some money on the table. “That should cover me,” she said, turning to leave.

“Have a good night,” Ursula called after her. No response. She sighed and looked down at her nearly empty plate. “Well, I guess I might as well go too. I have work tomorrow.”

“Well, if you’re leaving, I suppose I have to,” Cruella complained. She dug through her bag for an inordinately long time, looking for what ended up being an overlarge wallet. A sudden worry came to Ursula’s mind as she watched the woman’s struggle.

“You aren’t planning on driving, are you?”

Cruella shook her head. “Can't drive for six months. Court order. I’m taking the bus.”

“That’s-” Ursula watched as Cruella removed her credit card with clumsy deliberation. “-probably not the best idea. Let me drive you home.”

“Well, I-” Cruella stared at Ursula with wide eyes for a moment. “I’m a bit out of the way.”

“It’s not a problem,” Ursula said. “I just want you to get home safe.”

“That’s-” Cruella nodded, one hand fingering her necklace. “That’s good. I mean,” she shook her head as though to clear it. “…thank you.”

Ursula smiled at the blush that came over the other woman. Even her thick makeup and bold clothing couldn’t hide a delicateness in her form. She seemed almost fragile.

“Don’t mention it.”

* * *

 

**_Present_ **

Cruella looked up from her sewing machine and shuddered. A pair of eyes was on her, and she knew exactly whose. It was chilling, really, the way Sofie crept about, hardly making a sound. Cruella believed it was a permanent condition children lived in: they were little ghouls, meant to terrifying the living daylights out of their parents, with their soundless footsteps and tendency to breathe too loudly right when they were staring over your shoulder. But their eyes: that’s what gave them away.

She turned from her sewing machine and looked at Sofie, who was standing only a few feet in front of her. The poor girl had a nervous habit of biting her thumbnail, and she was doing just that.

“Good Lord, darling, you have to stop sneaking about. I’ve told you, it’s dreadful to just feel your eyes on my back like that. Anyway, what are you doing back here? Aren’t you supposed to be dancing or singing or something?”

 “I don’t like it anymore.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I don’t like it. I wanna go home.”

“You liked it yesterday. What’s happened?”

“Nothing, I just think it’s stupid,” Sofie said to the floor.

“Don’t lie to me, darling, I’m much cleverer than you. Did someone say something?”

“Joey said I sound funny when I say my line,” she said, her voice so soft Cruella had to lean in to hear her.

“Who the hell is Joey?”

“He’s a Munchkin with me.”

“Does he have lines?”

Sofie shook her head, near tears.

“Of course he doesn’t. You see, he’s just embarrassed because you get to do something he doesn’t. Boys never like it when girls get to do things. Just ignore him.”

“But I _do_ sound funny. That’s why I do speech class with Ms. Wilcox!”

Cruella sighed at the comment. She’d always said the class would give Sofie a complex, but, as usual, no one had listened to her. Her first grade teacher had shoved her into a speech class the minute she heard the child’s lisp, despite Cruella’s protests that no six year old could _really_ be understood anyway.

“Well… plenty of children take speech class, and I’m sure some of them have done very well in plays.”

“Like who?”

“Well I-I don’t know. I’ve never looked. But there must be _someone_.”

Sofie looked down at the ground, still gnawing her thumb. Cruella felt at a loss until she remembered something. She shuffled through her bag and pulled out a tube of pink, sparkly lip gloss. Sofie had been eyeing the makeup aisle for weeks now in the stores, and, as the gloss had been on sale, Cruella had felt compelled to purchase it for the girl. She’d been meaning to save it for some occasion, but now seemed as good a time as any to reveal the gift.

 “Look…I got this the other day for you.”

Sofie’s thumb popped out of her mouth, and she reached for the tube excitedly.

“Can I wear it now, please please please?!”

Cruella held the gloss out of reach.

“Now, see, you can’t wear lip gloss unless you make a promise. It’s a rule. If you’re wearing it, you have to ignore anything and everything wretched boys say. Can you do that?”

“Yes!”

Sofie bounced up and down, and it was clear she’d practically forgotten all about Joey and his cruel comment.

“Let me hear it: I, Sofie Feinberg-”

“Cruella!”

“Say it, or no pink sparkles!”

“I, Sofie Feinberg,”

“-do solemnly swear-”

“-do sol…solemenel –what?”

“We’ll skip that part. So: ‘I Sofie Feinberg’- and then: will not listen to any nasty little boys-”

“-will not listen to any nasty little boys-”

“-whilst wearing this lip gloss.”

“-whilst wearing this lip gloss.”

“There you are, then.”

Sofie, while trying to navigate what was, to her, an entirely new contraption, practically rammed the wand into her mouth, and Cruella seized it from her before she painted her teeth.

“Here, let me do it, darling,” she said, cupping the girl’s face with one hand. “Push out your lips like this, there we go…now rub them together. Just spread it so it’s even. Now, see, that’s lovely. Look over in that mirror there.”

Sofie turned to the mirror on the door behind her and grinned. She ran up closer and examined her lips, pulling a variety of faces to test the effect of the makeup.

 “Like it?”

Sofie nodded and ran up to the staircase. She hopped onto the first stair and looked back at Cruella.

“I’m gonna go back now, okay?”

“All right. You remember what I told you?”

“Mmhm!” she stepped up several more stairs before looking back again. “And can I wear it every day?”

“If that’s what you want,” Cruella said, smiling. Sofie was gone in another second, and she turned back to her work, a warm feeling growing in the pit of her stomach. She didn’t especially like being shouldered with the responsibilities of a parent, and she’d never pretended to be any good at them. But there were times when she felt as though maybe she wasn’t utterly hopeless.

She came upstairs an hour later to help Sofie pack her things up. Her mother was meant to have her for the weekend, and, as far as Cruella knew, she actually intended to show up this time. Ursula was picking out chords on the piano, trying to teach “Dorothy” a few harmonies before the end of the day. She smiled at Cruella when she saw her, and the gesture only lightened Cruella’s mood further.

The two were getting on well. Much better, indeed, than Cruella had anticipated. Ursula didn’t seem to be angry with her, and, despite the fact that Cruella still yearned for some explanation for what had happened to them before, she now felt as though it would come in its own due time. Ursula was that way, Cruella remembered. Very sincere, but very private. Cruella liked that about her. She somehow managed to always be interesting without being dangerous.

Unfortunately, the smile wasn’t enough to keep her mood from being soured when Sara Lexington entered the theater. She had a rabbit’s face, Cruella thought, and the same nervous energy (though she was more contentious than any rabbit Cruella had ever met). She pushed past Cruella without a word, and bent down to help Sofie zip up her jacket.

 “What is this crap on your lips?” Cruella heard her ask.

“Cruella gave it to me,” Sofie said. Sara turned and gave Cruella withering look.

“Of course she did…” she muttered. “Sofie, why don’t you wait for me in the lobby, okay?”

Now she was in for it. Cruella braced herself for the inevitable, watching Sofie’s slight figure disappear around the corner. She could feel Sara’s eyes burning into her skull.

 _That’s where the girl gets it._ She turned to Sara and raised her eyebrows expectantly.

“Please don’t tell me you actually put your makeup on my daughter,” Sara said, crossing her arms in front of her.

Cruella laughed. “Since when have I worn pink sparkles? No, don’t worry. I haven’t tainted her with whatever disease you read about in those magazines you _mothers_ use to get yourselves all worked up.”

“No, you don’t understand. She’s six. She does not need to be given makeup. She’s a child, Cruella. The sexualization of-”

“Oh dear God, please don’t tell me that they’ve sexualized _lip gloss_ too these days. It made her happy and she liked the way it looked. I don’t think there needs to be a fuss over it all.”

“Look, she’s too young to be putting stuff on her face, and I don’t want it happening again. End of discussion.”

Sara tried leave the aisle, but Cruella stepped in front of her.

“Look, I have to deal with _your daughter_ nearly every day of the week. And if I have to wake up to her having a nightmare, or deal with her when she has the stomach flu, or sit in those dreadful teacher conferences…then I’ll put lip gloss on her if I feel like it.”

“You aren’t her mother,” Sara snarled. “You don’t have any legal rights to her at all.”

“Then you fucking take her. You take her and deal with her every time my husband is out of town or too busy to pay any attention to her. You do it. By all means. Please, take full advantage of your _legal rights_. I’ve been waiting for that for years now, darling.”

Cruella could feel her cheeks growing hot and her voice rising, and she turned to leave before she lost her temper. But Sara’s voice called after her:

“You can act high and mighty, sweetheart, but why don’t you ask yourself why you don’t have any parental rights, huh?”

Cruella looked back upon hearing the comment, and the urge to strangle the woman right there came upon her. She could see Ursula’s figure in her peripheral. It looked as though she’d stood up from the piano in order to watch what was increasingly becoming a spectacle.

“You know Robert’s never gonna apply for you to have _anything_ , and we all know why,” Sara spat out the words, and Cruella could feel _everyone’s_ eyes on her now. “It’s ‘cause you’re a goddamn psycho bitch.”

Ursula must have moved closer without Cruella noticing, for before Cruella could even move to smash the woman’s face in, she felt herself being restrained by a hand gripping her arm.

“Hey! Hey, let’s go to the back. Just ignore her, it’s fine. Come with me to the back.”

Cruella didn’t need any more encouragement, as she felt herself growing dizzy and the room heating up. She raced to the backroom, her ears ringing. She heard Sara shout something after her, but Ursula interrupted her:

“Hey, go home, all right? Shut the hell up and take your kid home.”

Hands shaking, practically tripping down the stairs, Cruella made her way to the backroom. She contemplated sitting down, but the room was too fucking hot and she couldn’t breathe. As she started shoving her things in her purse, she heard Ursula behind her.

“What are you doing?”

“I have to go. I have to just-I have to leave right now. I have to go.”

“Okay, that’s fine. But you shouldn’t drive. Let me take you.”

Cruella turned and looked at Ursula, whose brow was knit with concern.

“My car is here,” she said, before closing her eyes in embarrassment. _Stupid thing to say._ Now that her adrenaline had run its course, she found she had to lean on the table to keep herself steady.

“It’ll still be here tomorrow,” Ursula replied. “I’ll take you wherever you need to go, okay? Let’s walk to my car.”

The outside air was enough to alleviate some of her confusion, and she paused for a minute right outside the door, breathing deeply. Ursula was quiet, but she placed a reassuring hand on Cruella’s back when they started the walk to her car.

Once inside, Cruella leaned her head back against the seat and waited for the hum of the engine.

“You want to go home?” Ursula asked after starting the car.

Cruella shook her head. “Just drive.”

“All right,” Ursula said. After a few minutes of silence, Ursula spoke up again.

“Is this helping?” she asked.

“Yes, thank you.”

“You want to get something to eat, maybe?”

“I need a drink.”

Ursula laughed, and Cruella opened her eyes for the first time since they’d started driving. Ursula eyed her and smiled, clearly relieved. 

“Tell you what, how about we get those drinks over some fries? They have that place, what’s it called? The one with two lightbulbs in the whole building? Looks like a warehouse?”

Cruella frowned. “Jerry’s?”

“Yeah. Happy hour’s coming up, they’ll have some kind of special. You up for it?”

“You hate that place,” Cruella said.

“I don’t hate it. It’s just not my favorite. I like being able to see my food while eating it. But you like it, right?”

Cruella nodded.

“Jerry’s it is.”

After another brief silence, Ursula cleared her throat.

“I don’t know if you want to talk about what happened back there, but I just wanted to tell you that Sofie was really happy with the makeup thing. It was really adorable, actually. She was showing everyone, she was singing louder…it was nice. And you did that for her, and that’s really fucking cool. And I’m sorry her mom’s such a bitch about it. But she doesn’t get to take that away from you.”

Cruella couldn’t do anything but nod and half whisper, “I know.”

 “You sure? Because I know you, and you take the shit people say to heart. I know you don’t think you do, but you do.”

Cruella nodded again, but didn’t say anything. She felt, for one moment, a twinge of resentment towards Ursula for verbalizing her own weakness, however well-intentioned she might be. She didn’t _want_ her pity, and she felt a wave of shame for allowing herself to look so helpless.

“You know, actually, I think I’d rather go home.”

“If that’s what you want,” Ursula said after a pause. “I hope I didn’t-”

“No, no!” Cruella interrupted her, suddenly terrified that she’d just ruined everything that had been building between them. “I just think I’d rather stay in tonight. But you-you said everything right. And I’m glad you were there and I’m glad we’re getting on so well and if you want to go get drinks another time, I would-”

She stopped there, afraid of finishing. Ursula didn’t say anything for what seemed like an age.

“This might be weird, I don’t know,” she finally said. “but I have this thing I’m singing at on Sunday. It’s for the church my dad goes to. I know that’s not really your thing. It’s not really mine either, but it’s just a dinner, so it’s not like a _church thing_ , you know?”

“You’ll be singing?”

“For part of it, yeah. And then the dinner is always pretty good. It’s a social, basically. It’s casual, and we don’t have to stay. I just thought maybe-”

“Of course,” Cruella said. They had arrived at her house by this point. “I’d been wondering when I’d get to hear you sing something that wasn’t from The Wizard of Oz.”

“You really want to go?”

“If you’ll have me, yes. They _will_ let me in?”

Ursula laughed. “I think you just might pass inspection. Hey, can I get your number? I can text you the details.”

“Here, just put yours in there and I’ll text you.” Cruella pulled her phone out of her shirt and handed it to Ursula, who looked at her in amusement.

“You still keep your phone in your bra?”

“If I put it in my purse I’ll never find it again, darling. It’s like a labyrinth in there, I don’t know why I keep it.”

“I’ll see you Sunday, then,” Ursula said. “And you’ll be able to get your car okay?”

“I’ll make Robert take me tomorrow.” Cruella took her phone and opened the car door. “Thanks for the ride. See you Sunday.”

She reached her front door and turned back to find Ursula still parked in the drive, apparently waiting to see if she could manage to get into her own home. Given Cruella’s recent episode, she couldn’t blame her for the concern. She waved, and Ursula started up the car again before waving back.

Cruella closed her front door and propelled herself to the kitchen, where she had a glass of wine poured in less than a minute. It wasn’t nearly strong enough, but Robert didn’t like keeping hard liquor in the house. Anyway, she already felt lightheaded. She leaned against the counter, her cheeks flushed.

It wasn’t a date, not really. _Not at all._

But what else could she call it?

* * *

 

**Seven Years Ago**

They had arrived at the top floor of a shabby apartment building. It hadn’t occurred to Ursula that her drunken companion could possibly live anywhere so unassuming and dingy, but Cruella seemed quite at home in the narrow, dimly lit hallway. She procured her key and halted in front of door number fifty eight.

“You’ll be okay?” Ursula asked, and Cruella nodded, though she missed the key hole entirely the first time she took a stab at the door.

“I’ll be fine, darling. Thank you for the ride,” she said as the door swung open, revealing an apartment with all the lights still on. There was music playing from a radio on a side table, though no one else appeared to be there.

“It’s always playing,” Cruella said, seeing Ursula’s confusion. “I don’t like coming home to a dark and quiet house. It’s unnerving.”

Ursula nodded. “Makes sense. Well, if you’re all set…good night. Take care.”

She turned to leave, but Cruella moved to stop her, one foot remaining in the doorway to keep the door propped open.

“I’m going to ask you something, and before you answer you should know that I always remember everything when I’m drunk, so no trying to be clever.”

Ursula raised her eyebrows, though she couldn’t help but smile. “And what was the question?”

“Well I-I can’t ask anyone out in this state. So I need a number, you know. For tomorrow- so I can do the whole thing properly.”

“You want to go on a date?” The words came out strangely, as her mouth had gone dry.

“No, no, no,” Cruella waved her hand as though to shush her. “We haven’t gotten to that part yet. I just want the-” she pulled her phone out of her shirt. “You can put it in there yourself, if you’d like.”

Seeing Ursula’s hesitation, she moved as though to put the phone back, but Ursula snatched it from her before she could. As she felt the phone in her hands, the nervous fluttering in her stomach subsided.

“You said you remember everything even when you’re wasted, right?” Ursula glanced up at Cruella while she typed in her number. The woman’s face was quite white, as though she hadn’t really expected her plan to work. It was endearing, in its own way. And she really was very pretty. Perhaps a bit odd…but not in an entirely unpleasant way.  

Cruella nodded blankly.

“Good. So don’t call me before four thirty. I won’t get off work until then, and I don’t like calling people back.”

She pressed the phone back into Cruella’s hand and walked away from the door.

“Not before four thirty,” Cruella called after her. “I’ve already remembered, darling!”

Ursula grinned at her and waved before turning the corner, amazed at what she had just done. She wasn’t the sort of person who gave her number out, especially to drunk women.

 _A drunk woman with red heels and too much makeup,_ she thought. By any rationale, what she’d done was ill advised.

But then why did she feel something warm creeping up on her, as though she were already home?

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Thank you also to those of you who have left kind comments, they make my day and are so incredibly encouraging! I tried a little something different with the flashbacks (gotta keep true to the source material right?)- I don't know if they'll be an every chapter thing, but I really liked writing them, so if they come across well I might make them semi-reoccuring


	4. Chapter 4

 

**Six Years Ago**

Cruella stared at the door of the cafe for almost a full minute. She knew she was doing the right thing in apologizing. But that didn’t make it any easier.

After all, it hadn’t been entirely her fault. What sort of person let their bigoted and selfish father come in and dictate their life after being absent for over a decade?  

 _Apparently a person who’s just dying to sit in classes about vocal range._ Or something. Cruella wasn’t quite sure what you did at a music conservatory. She would have been happy to find out. New York had enough of a reputation to attract even her. Then Ursula had mentioned that, if she was to live in the apartment her father was offering to pay for, it would be impossible for Cruella to tag along.

“He doesn’t know that I date women,” Ursula explained. “And he definitely doesn’t know I live with one.”

“So, tell him. You’re an adult, there’s no need to sneak around.”

“I’m not going to tell him.”

“So, he’s paying for you to do all these things, and you’re afraid to tell him you’re a lesbian?”

“I’m not afraid.  I just don’t want to.”

She was a terrible liar, but instead of pointing this out, Cruella decided to be absurd right along with her.

“So I’m just not worth the effort, that’s all?” she asked, delighting in the way Ursula winced at the accusation.

“Jesus, Cruella…” she said. After a silence, Cruella stood up.

“Well, I’ll just get out of your way then. Clearly you have things to think about.”

And, true to her word, Cruella hadn’t yet returned home. It was only now, at two in the afternoon, that she felt ready to face Ursula. She’d done some thinking of her own, and had at least three possible solutions scrawled on a fast food napkin. Two possible solutions, if she accepted the reality that Ursula would likely veto: “Tell him to fuck off and die.”

Ashley Boyd greeted her with smile at the register. Why she was always smiling, Cruella didn’t know. Her custody battle had taken up the front page of the Storybrooke Mirror at least three times. She’d won, though “winning” in this case meant getting a baby instead of three hundred thousand dollars, a trade Cruella wouldn’t make to save her own life.

“Hey, Cruella, what can I get for you?”

“Oh, no, I don’t want anything. I just was wondering if I could talk to Ursula for a minute.”

Ashley knit her brow. “You want to talk to Ursula?”

“I know I’m a bit early, but there’s no one here anyway, and, well…we had a disagreement last night and I have to be at work in twenty minutes, and I wanted to get it done before then.”

“I’m sorry, but…Ursula isn’t here,” Ashley said, her face growing red. “She came in here when we opened, said she was going to New York earlier than she’d thought, last minute. She left this morning.”

“What do you mean, ‘she left this morning?’”

“I’m sorry, I thought for sure she’d told you.”

Cruella stormed out of the café without saying another word. She got back in her car and started the engine before dialing Ursula’s number, trying to pretend her stomach wasn’t about to fall out of her mouth.

She thought it might go to voicemail, but Ursula finally picked up.

“Hey, can I call you back, I-”

“Where are you right now?”

“-I’m at the airport. I’m waiting for my bags.”

Cruella waited for her to say something else, but apparently Ursula thought that was sufficient explanation for her actions, as she heard only the general buzz of the terminal. After the first few seconds passed, it seemed to Cruella that all Ursula needed to say was contained in that silence, and she had spared them both quite a lot of time.

“You were never going to take me with you, were you?” she said, trying not to let the bite of her tears creep into her voice. “You’re a fucking snake, that’s what you are.”

“Cruella, I just-”

“No, you don’t get to talk! You didn’t want to tell me to my face, you don’t get to say a damn thing. You’re a liar and you’re selfish and all you care about is getting your daddy’s money. That’s fine. Take it. Take all of it, suck his dick until one of you drops dead. That’s your choice, I hope you’re happy with it. Actually, no, that’s a lie. What I really want, Ursula, what I really, really, really fucking want, is for you to go in to see the doctor because you have a little tickle in your throat, they do some investigating, and they find out your voice box is permanently damaged. Is that possible? God, I hope so. And I hope it happens to you. Truly, from the bottom of my heart.”

“…I have to go.”

“Then hang up the phone. And don’t think about calling me back. Ever.”

“I’m sor-”

“No, you’re not,” Cruella said before hanging up. She nearly called in sick when she remembered that she now had to show up for five hours of folding clothes and tearing off security tags, all the while pretending nothing was wrong. And someone was bound to notice (someone always did), and then she’d have to say what had happened or lie. Either way she might start crying and then she’d have to quit out of sheer embarrassment. But it wouldn’t matter. For the rest of her life, she’d have to be the crazy bitch at the department store who cried over her singing ex girlfriend.

All because she’d been stupid enough to fall in love.

* * *

  **Present**

“Your father told me you were coming to sing and my heart just soared, I knew you’d be back here before long! And I knew I’d see the day, too! I’ve been working on you, my dear. Me and _Him_ , we’ve been having quite a time with the Ursula problem.”

Such had been Ursula’s reintroduction to _Living Waters_ : Storybrooke’s Center of Christian Fellowship. The afternoon found Ursula inundated with more Christian kindness than she could stand. All the praises of her return echoed back a condemnation of her absence, and the whole room soon became suffocating

She’d told Cruella to get there by four thirty, forgetting that Cruella was never on time for anything. Ursula was supposed to sing at five, and Cruella didn’t show until she was fiddling with her sheet music on the old piano set up on a stage. Everyone else was already sitting at fold-up tables with plaid, plastic tablecloths draped over them. All the other performers had played to a mixed audience, as people flitted in and out and made conversation. But Ursula, the church benefactor’s daughter, was  an event not to missed, and Cruella entered a nearly silent room.

Cruella’s furs and glittering diamonds seemed especially audacious in a sea of flowery dresses and pastels. She didn’t seem bothered by the overt staring, though Ursula felt her own cheeks growing hot. It was one thing for them to talk about her, the lost sheep, the prodigal daughter. It was a role she had brought upon herself. However, now she had let someone else be caught in the whirlwind of scrutiny and judgment. After all, how could Cruella have done anything but stick out? What had she been thinking, inviting her? Was she hoping to impress her with a few gospel songs?  That if she sang beautifully enough, she would never have to speak to her about what had happened so many years ago?

Really, the only thing stranger than Ursula asking Cruella to come was that Cruella _had_.

She unabashedly took a seat next to Ursula’s father near the front of the room, and Ursula was grateful that she was providing her own accompaniment and didn’t have to stare out into the audience. As it was, she felt her voice shaking and straining, and she knew it was due to nerves.

Nevertheless, the praise she received afterwards was nothing short of shining. She saw her father speaking with Cruella, but a crowd of enthusiastic people kept her from approaching them for nearly five minutes. By then, Cruella had slunk to the back of the room and was picking at the potluck table. Ursula moved to join her, but her father cut her off.

“You sang well,” he said. “Not one of your very best, but these people here are just happy to see you. And you look beautiful.”

Ursula glanced down at her white dress and cheap flats, both purchased in haste yesterday afternoon.

“Thanks, Dad.”

“Now, that woman who came in, the one with the-well, you saw her. She says she knows you from work.”

Her father didn’t look all too happy about having met Cruella. Something else she should have foreseen.

“Yeah, Cruella Feinberg. She does costumes.”

“You invited her?”

“I did.” Ursula braced herself for the coming barrage of indignation.  

“I thought you knew better than that, Ursula.”

“What do you mean?” Ursula asked, feeling pretty sure she knew the answer already.

“Well, she came in late, dressed and painted up like a prostitute-”

“Dad!”

“-and she was aggressively ignorant while speaking to me. No shame whatsoever.”

“Is she supposed to be ashamed here?”

“There’s nothing wrong with a decent amount of modesty in a woman. Or a man, for that matter,” he added at Ursula’s eye roll. “-don’t look at me like that. Pride is unattractive no matter how you cut it. I’m sure she’s a good enough sort of person; I’m not saying she isn’t. And it’s important to get along with everyone, you know I believe that. But to bring her here just out of the blue and expect it to go over well…you’re smarter than that, Ursula.”

“She’s just standing there, Dad.”

“She’s a distracting presence,” her father insisted.

“So she’s not good enough for church, that’s what you’re saying?”

“Please don’t put words in my mouth, Ursula. She’s not ready to attend a Christian community function, that’s all I meant.”

“Well neither am I, apparently,” Ursula said before walking away.

When she reached the door, she began to feel too much like an adolescent throwing a fit and turned around. Her father was already talking to the pastor as though nothing had happened. As though she didn’t exist. She pushed the door open and left.

_Fuck him, anyway._

“Ursula!”

It was Cruella who called after her, causing Ursula to stop next to a large statue of the Holy Family. The entire church had been funded almost exclusively by her parents, but this statue had been a special commission of her mother’s, made just after she was born.

“To remind us of the blessedness of the family,” she used to say. And Ursula had believed it for twelve years. Then her beautiful and gentle mother had been pulled from her car and slaughtered in the middle of the day, and the statue started to look menacing and deceitful.

Ursula thought about exchanging greetings with Cruella, but she was just a little too angry to pretend to give a shit. “What did my dad talk to you about?”

“What? Oh, nothing really,” Cruella lied.

“Seriously, what?”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“Look, if he was a dick to you, just tell me. I know how he is, and I’m sorry. I really am.”

“Oh, no, he wasn’t rude to me. Not really. We just had a disagreement, that’s all.”

Cruella seemed calm, but Ursula felt her stomach twist.

“About what?”

“Well...you,” Cruella said. “The performance. See, he thought you sounded...inhibited. He thought maybe you hadn’t been practicing enough.”

Ursula nodded. She’d figured as much. “And what did you say to him?”

“Well, I told him he was wrong, that’s all.”

“Just like that?”

“Well, yes. Because he was. You do work, harder than anyone, and I told him that. And then I said-and maybe this wasn’t right to say, but I couldn’t help it, darling -I told him you weren’t any better for all the work and the school he put you through. Not really. I’m sure there’s been technical improvements, of course, but I don’t know what they are, and neither do most of these people. And your voice has always been your voice and it’s always been able to do what it does now.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, how I explained it to him is that when you sing, it hits everywhere. You feel everything, and it all fits together just like it should, even the bad things you usually try and ignore. And I don’t believe they can teach a voice to do that.”  

“…you said that to him?”

Cruella nodded, and Ursula noticed how flushed she was. Her own cheeks felt hot and she could feel her heart pounding. They had to talk now, before she lost her nerve.

“Why did you come?” she asked.

“I wanted to hear you sing.”

“But why? We didn’t talk. For six years,” Ursula explained. “I thought you hated me.”

“Well, I did, darling,” Cruella said, after a moment’s pause.

“So what changed?”

“Well, we started getting along again, that’s all.”

And just like that, the conversation died. Ursula supposed she deserved that. She’d tried to skip over the most important parts. She sat down on the bench lying under the Holy Family statue and took a deep breath before trying again.

“This was my mom’s statue, really. She had it put up, right when I was born.”

“Oh,” Cruella said, moving closer. “It’s...very big.”

Ursula motioned for her to sit down as well.

“That’s what she wanted us to be. This family that fit together. And we were, before she left. Turns out me and my dad…we don’t know what to do. We fucked it up, and I feel like, if there is a heaven or an afterlife…I don’t know what she must think of the two of us.”

Cruella looked uncomfortable with the topic, and Ursula hastened to get to the point.

“I just wanted to make sure you knew that when I left for New York…this was what I was trying to get back. This thing my mom believed in. And I’m not saying I didn’t mess up. What I did to you was fucked up. I know that. And I’m really sorry you got caught in this bullshit. But I just…my mom sang, you know? We’d sing together. And I hadn’t seen my dad in I don’t know how many years and he shows up and it was more than the singing and the money. That was part of it too, but...all I’m saying is that none of it was you. None of it was your fault.”

Cruella stared at the grass in silence, her teeth gnawing at her bottom lip.

“I didn’t make things weird again, did I?” Ursula finally asked

“No,” Cruella said slowly. “I understand. This whole thing is a part of your life. It follows you. Everyone has that. And I don’t want to punish you over it. I thought I did, but I don’t. I just wanted to know if I had made it all up. Because I do that, I know I do.”

“Make things up?”

“I make things bigger than they are. Fantasies, I suppose.” Cruella shrugged and Ursula was reminded of the snide comments Mr. Feinberg had made about her grip on reality. “I just kept wondering if I should really be upset with myself for pretending things were better than they were.”

“With us, you mean?” _What else?_ But Ursula needed to ask, if only to distract herself from a surge of guilt.

“Yes.”

“No, we were…we were good. Really good.”

“I thought so too,”Cruella said, her eyes still set on the ground. Ursula could see her hands shaking.

Another silence. This time, Ursula felt that maybe they’d said enough, at least for now. Besides, people were starting to leave, and their wandering eyes made Ursula aware of how narrow the bench they shared was.

“I’m sorry for bailing, but I really should go.”

“I have the house to myself,” Cruella blurted out. “If you want to come over. You haven’t eaten anything yet.”

Ursula could feel  Cruella’s intense stare and her own thudding heart, and knew what had just been suggested was a Very Bad Idea.

But she nodded. “I’ll follow you.”

So, twenty minutes later, she was standing with Cruella at her marbled counter, while Cruella opened a bottle of wine.

“You want a glass?”

“Sure,” Ursula said. Because, at this point in in the litany of poor decisions, what did it matter?

“It’s a nice house,” she added.

“Thank you.” Cruella handed Ursula a wine glass and the opened bottle. “Help yourself, darling. It turns out better when people pour their own glasses, I’ve found out. Too many offended people at dinner parties, otherwise.”

They moved to the couch, and Ursula found herself leaning towards Cruella long before she finished her first glass of wine. It was the first time they’d gossiped over a drink in six years, and she’d forgotten how easy Cruella was to talk to, how alluring she could be. She somehow managed to be both elegant and entirely comfortable, flinging her wine glass around as she spoke, never spilling a drop. She was so beautiful, Ursula couldn’t fucking stand it, and she soon found herself practically on the woman’s lap, dimly aware that Cruella had her free hand on her leg, fingering the hem of her white dress.

Ursula wasn’t quite sure whose idea it was to kiss first, and she didn’t care. The kiss felt like an extension of the conversation, as though once she pulled away, they’d go right back to talking about that stupid movie neither of them had liked and both of them had seen more than once.

Only they didn’t stop. One kiss blended into another, each more charged and gratifying than the one before. And yet, even as her lips grew more and more pliant, Ursula couldn’t silence an uneasiness in the back of her mind. She was just about to pull away when she heard Cruella mutter, “Shit.”

Her wine glass had finally spilled. Sighing, she stared down at the red stain on the white carpet.

“I’ll have to get that before it sets,” she said, giving Ursula a guilty look. Ursula didn’t know whether to feel relieved or upset at the interruption. Cruella left the room and returned a few minutes later armed with a carpet cleaner and a rag. Ursula’s offers to help were dismissed, and her position as spectator gave her opportunity to gather her thoughts.

“I think we should, uhm, talk about some things,” she finally said, and Cruella turned to look at her.

“What did you want to talk about?”

“Well, there’s a few things...you have a husband. Is that-”

“Oh, don’t worry about that. We have an understanding.”

“You sure?”

“Positive, darling.”

“So what about us? Do we have an understanding? What are we doing right now?”

“What we want,” Cruella said, going back to scrubbing at the stained carpet. “And what I want-and what I think you want- is to have sex, probably on this couch, though we can move wherever you’d like, I really don’t care...that is what you want, isn’t it?”

Ursula couldn’t lie, not to her. “...yes. But just because we-”

Cruella waved her rag dismissively. “So, that’s all we need to hear. You want to, I want to, this house is empty...why not?”

“But what about after?”

“What about it?”

“What if we want different things? After this?”

Cruella sat on her knees and stared at her. “What do you want that you’re so worried about not getting?”

“Nothing!”

Cruella gave her a doubtful look and went to dispose of her rag. The room was hot, and Ursula slipped off her shrug. However, this left her feeling almost naked in her sleeveless dress.

“I just don’t want anyone to get hurt,” Ursula said when Cruella returned and sat down next to her.

“If we all stopped doing things  because we’re afraid of getting hurt, we’d never do anything at all.”

She cupped Ursula’s face in hands that now smelled like lavender soap, and teased Ursula’s lower lip with her tongue. Ursula let herself be drawn into yet another kiss, and the voice of doubt was all but gone when Cruella pulled away and whispered:

“Will it really hurt you? This? Because I don’t want-”

“No, no!” Ursula wanted to explain that doing what she wanted had always come with a catch and it frightened her to live by those terms. She wanted to ask Cruella to forgive her again for what her fear had already done to them. But, more than anything, she wanted Cruella to stop looking at her like she was broken and kiss her again.

“I just was worried that we were being...I don’t know. Irresponsible, I guess,” she said. Not a lie, not the truth. But enough for now.

“Irresponsible? Oh, I hope so, darling.”

Ursula laughed as Cruella began kissing along her jawline . “Well, as long as we’re on the same page, right?”

Cruella smirked, and the glint in her eyes told Ursula there was now no stopping her. Whatever fragility her slender frame might imply was tossed aside in favor of sharp angles, teeth, and tongue. Cruella was nothing if not overwhelming, and _this_ was her element. She worked her way down to Ursula’s collar bone with her mouth, and then stopped as her lip caught the fabric of the dress. She gave a frustrated groan and untied the bow in the back. Ursula scrambled to find the additional zipper, for that was the real culprit, but Cruella tugged on the dress before she was ready, both hands looking to pull down the strapless front.

Ursula heard the rip and looked down, arms still reaching for the zipper. The dress now sported a small tear down the front. Cruella, though flushed, was giggling at her handiwork.

“Jesus, eager much?” Ursula laughed.

“It was an accident! Well, mostly. I’ll buy you a new one, darling,” Cruella said, unzipping the dress and succeeding in slipping it off. She traced her hands towards Ursula’s back, but Ursula pushed them away.

“How about you let me even things up first?”

After a few exploratory kisses, her hands made their way to the back of Cruella’s black dress.

“Zipper,” she murmured, pulling it down. “Always good to find if you’re not into ripping clothes.”

“Is it?” Cruella murmured as Ursula helped her out of her dress.

“Now this,” she said, reaching for Ursula’s bra.

“Careful, this thing probably cost more than the dress. You rip this, I’ll end you.”

Thankfully, Cruella gave the bra due reverence, which was nothing compared to the attention she gave the breasts themselves. Ursula let Cruella’s hands and tongue explore them as her whole body grew warm and her cunt began to throb. She let out a moan, and Cruella moved a hand down at the cue.

Cruella did her job quickly and without sentiment. Her eyes gleamed with determination, and Ursula could see her pride in every moan her fingers drew out, every gasp her tongue caused. She had every right to such pride. It was fire and agony, how long it took, how many times Ursula could reach the top only to fall back down due to sudden insecurity or petty distraction. Long ago, Cruella had learned the secret to getting her to come: sheer force of will.

“Don’t you fucking stop,” she whispered as Ursula’s thrusting hips and breathless moans revealed how close she was. “You’re right there, I see it. Don’t you lose it, darling. Look at me. Feel it. Really feel it.”

Ursula did, and the resulting orgasm shook her to her toes. She cried out, and Cruella’s lips were on hers in a moment, one hand still caressing her cunt.

“There you are,” Cruella said. “Beautiful, darling. You’re beautiful.”

As they kissed, Ursula reached a hand out to find Cruella already soaked. She gave a whimper as Ursula passed a finger through her lips, and Ursula had her on her back in another minute, one hand stroking her clit while the other teased her nipples. Unlike Ursula, Cruella had never had any trouble climaxing, and after hardly a minute she was there, arching her back and laughing through her gasps.

Ursula was tempted to stop and bask in Cruella’s contentment. But contentment didn’t seem enough, and she allowed herself only a instant’s worth of gratification before kissing and sucking her way down to her clit.

She didn’t know how many times Cruella came, and she didn’t care to keep count. All that mattered was that she was writhing and gasping and clinging to Ursula’s hair and it was exactly what they both wanted. She tasted the same, just the same. She still dug her nails into whatever she was holding and squealed, “fuck!” in just the same way. And when she was ready, she pulled Ursula up and said, “that’s...darling” in that same breathless voice.

Then, and only then, was it enough. She was panting and shaking and gorgeous, and Ursula had given her everything she could, everything Cruella wanted.

“Are you okay?” she asked.

Cruella nodded. “I’m just fine, darling. Just fine.”

Ursula gave her a kiss, soft and gentle, as though it alone could convey what she was feeling. Even as she pulled away, she realized the gesture wasn’t enough. None of it had been enough. Only then did she have the courage to blurt out:

“I want you.”

“What?” Cruella said, propping herself up so they were at the same eye level. Ursula swallowed, but held her nerve.

“I want you. That’s what I want.”

Cruella looked stunned. Before either of them could say anything, the doorbell rang. Cruella was dressed in record time and halfway to the door by the time the second ring came. Ursula scrambled into her own clothes, pulling her shrug back on so the tear in the dress remained as inconspicuous as possible. She could hear an argument starting at the door, but it wasn’t yet loud enough that she could hear who with or what they were saying, and she didn’t dare show her face unless it proved to be an emergency.

The door slammed shut a minute later, and Cruella peeked her head around the corner.

“You ready?” she asked. Ursula nodded, and in the next moment she found herself face to face with a teary eyed Sofie Feinberg.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for the wait on this! Cruella and Ursula disagreed with me on what would consistute a "reasonable" time period before they had sex (which shouldn't have surprised me), and I had to adjust accordingly. Also, please forgive (and gently point out) any poor writing choices in the sex scene. I've never really written one before, so I've been losing sleep over it. Finally, I decided to let it be what it is and hopefully that'll be enough.  
> As always, thanks for reading!


	5. Chapter 5

**Four Years Ago**

**  
**_Mrs. Cruella Feinberg_. The name didn’t spill off the tongue, but Cruella could accept this, given the fact that Robert Feinberg was worth a staggering amount of money.

The name was the least of the disappointments Cruella was prepared to face:. Robert’s emotional unavailability, his dreadful technique in the bedroom, even his brat daughter with the rabbit faced mother...she could endure all of it, so long as she had free rein to fill the overlarge closet in the master bedroom. Anyway, Robert had no desire to keep things exclusive, she had a therapist, and the little girl had a nanny.

Anita, the dear thing, protested when she told her over the phone. As her oldest (and only) friend, Cruella felt obligated to tell her the news-after several drinks, of course.

“But you don’t like him at all! And you know, you told me a hundred times before I married Roger that you thought marriage was the stupidest thing a woman could get herself into.”

“No, no, no, darling, I said marrying a man out of misplaced sentiment is the stupidest thing a woman could get herself into.”

“Please tell me it isn’t just for his money.”

“Well, what else would I be doing it for?  Really, Anita, sometimes you’re positively obtuse...when a man has as much money as Robert Feinberg does, you marry him. No romantic entanglements, no disappointments. It’s the right way to do these things,”

“Oh, you don’t mean that, Cruella!”

Perhaps she didn’t. Perhaps she still hid every night from the empty space in the apartment she refused to sell until the marriage papers were signed. Perhaps, after two years, she still felt sick to her stomach when someone so much as mentioned New York. Perhaps it would be easier to be Cruella Feinberg than herself. And didn’t she deserve something easy, for once?

She got her wish. The apartment sold, the papers were signed, and she moved into Robert Feinberg’s massive house, with his pristine floors and almost invisible daughter. And all she had to do was smile and endure a few weekly lunch dates.

“How was your lunch with Mr. Feinberg?” asked the nanny whose name she could never remember one afternoon.

“Perfectly dreadful, darling, I can’t tell you how many times he looked at his phone. I told him if had a meeting he’d better get to it, but he insists on keeping up traditions, the bore.”

"I’m sorry about that, Mrs. Feinberg. And the mess in the kitchen, I’m getting to it,” Nanny said, clearly flustered. “Sofie was throwing fit today. She threw her whole lunch on the floor.”

Cruella grimaced and looked around for the girl. Then she heard a thump from upstairs.

“Where is she now, hiding? I can hear her stomping around up there.”

“I’ve got in her a timeout.” Nanny replied.

Cruella frowned. “A what?”

“She has to stay up there until she learns to stop screaming and throwing things like she’s been possessed.”

“You’ve locked her up in her room?” Cruella could feel her chest beginning to tense.

“I do it all the time, it’s the only way to-”

“Anyone can do that! What on earth am I paying you for? To lock her up in a room because you can’t stop her from crying? What sort of nanny are you?”

“It’s not just crying, Mrs. Feinberg, she’s a fiend! Throwing things and screaming and hitting me, like some devil child. She’s impossible to reason with.”

“She’s two, and you’re an imbecile,” Cruella snarled.

“But I-”

“Please stop talking. _I’ll_ handle her, since you don’t know how to do your job,” Cruella said before storming up the stairs. It didn’t occur to her until she reached the top that she had no idea what to actually _do_.  She stared at the door for a moment, finally deciding that, whatever she did next, opening the door had to be the right way to start things.

The girl had stopped her tantrum and was now curled in a ball on the floor, still sobbing into her knees. She looked up as Cruella approached, her eyes red and her nose running.

“If you want to tell me what’s wrong, I can help you,” Cruella said after a pause. Sofie buried her face in her knees again, and Cruella sighed. Her eyes scanned the room and landed on a doll perched on the child’s pillow. Not knowing what else to do, Cruella sat on the bed and picked the toy up.

“Is this yours? Does she have a name?”

“Baby,” Sofie murmured, and she reached out for the doll.

“Ah, of course,” Cruella said, handing Baby off to her rightful owner.

Sofie stared at Cruella for a moment before turning to the doll. She then began speaking to Baby to in a stream of words that only marginally resembled English. After a minute of pretending to be interested in the nonsense, Cruella figured she had served her time and stood up.

“I’ll just leave the door open, you come down when-”

“Wait, wait, wait!” Sofie cried out.

“Baby goes to the park!” she said, pointing out the window, where there was indeed a park just down the street.

“You want to go to the park?”

“Yeah!” Sofie jumped up and down several times for emphasis.

“Well, I...it’s very hot outside, darling.”

“It’s not hot! It’s just right for me!” Sofie said with a conviction that made Cruella grin.

“All right, then. Follow me.”

She strutted back down to the kitchen, Sofie trailing just behind her. Nanny’s anxiety at her reappearance only widened Cruella’s smile as she said:

“You’re taking her to the park.”

“But it’s too hot for-”

“Slap some sunscreen on, sit in the shade. Do you _have_ a brain? If she wants to slide down a hot slide, let her. She’ll tire herself out, go to sleep, problem solved,” Cruella said, giving Sofie a wink as she headed towards the living room. “Just do your job, please.”

She heard the pitter patter of the child’s feet followed by a tug on her pant’s pocket before she could reach the other room.

“Wait, wait, wait! Cool Ella is going!” Sofie declared.

“Oh no, Cool Ella is not.”

“Yes!” Sofie said, the refusal unable to dim her enthusiasm. Cruella opened her mouth to refuse again, but Nanny had now appeared, and Cruella wasn’t about to admit any of this wasn’t according to plan.

“Of course, darling. But you’ll have to wait for me to get ready.”

“I’ll sit here, see? See?” Sofie sat herself down on the bottom stair, Baby seated carefully on her lap.

Cruella looked back at Nanny, eyebrows raised.

“Now, was that so difficult?”

* * *

**  
** **Present**

 The night had been going just fine, all things considered. Sofie’s mother had been her usual unbearable self and dropped her daughter off a night early. She insisted it was because Sofie was “a nuisance” and it was “entirely due to the lifestyle choices encouraged in this household.” Cruella had almost pointed out that sending Sofie back to such a place seemed awfully negligent on her part, but the girl’s tears prevented her from pressing the issue.

“She has a boyfriend,” Sofie explained after her mother left. “and he doesn’t like kids.”

Fortunately, Sofie had recovered after a night of delivery chicken and princess films. “Miss Ursula” had even agreed to stay, so it was “just like a sleepover.” Nails had been painted, songs had been sung (not by Cruella, certainly, but she didn’t mind listening), and Sofie didn’t seem all too scarred by her mother’s abandonment.

And then she’d put Sofie to bed, and the damn girl had to go and ruin it all.

_I love you._

Cruella’s stomach knotted tighter each time the words replayed in her head, and she fought an ever growing sense of vertigo as she made her way back to her own bedroom. She was vaguely aware of Ursula saying something, but she couldn’t bring herself to care.

“Cruella! Hey! Hey!”

Cruella looked up from taking off her makeup. Ursula stood there, one of Cruella’s lacy nightdresses in hand.

“Are you okay?” she asked.

“Fine. Did you need something?”

“All that’s in that closet are about a dozen of these, and they look like they’re pretty skimpy on _you_ ,” she said. “Do you have any actual pajamas I could wear, or is this it?”

Cruella tried to answer, but her dizziness was causing the entire room to spin. She blinked several times, forcing Ursula to come back into focus.

“Something what?”

“Just...this is too small, you see?” Ursula said, holding up the dress. Cruella swallowed and clutched the counter.

“Of course...the dresser has something. Middle drawer, on the left.”

“Okay…” Ursula was frowning, she could tell, but she left for the dresser anyway, giving Cruella time to calm herself before Ursula entered again, wearing a pair of pajama pants and an old tank top Cruella would never admit to owning.

“Are you sure you’re okay? Did Sofie say something? Because you’re acting bizarre.”

“Nothing happened, darling. I put her to bed, we said good night, and she told me she loved me, that’s all.”

Ursula nodded. “Does she usually tell you she loves you?”

Cruella just managed to prevent a hiss from escaping her lips. “Well, I don’t know, I never thought about it...it might have been the first time. Why?”

“I just wondered, that’s all. Is it a good thing, her saying it? Or is it…?”

**"** Is it what?”

“I don’t know, I just thought maybe it...I don’t know what I thought.”

“Does it have to mean something? Is that such a strange thing for her to say?”

“No, I just…never mind,” Ursula said, punctuating the comment with a stinging sigh.

“If you’re going to act like this, you can leave,” Cruella said, turning back to the mirror and trying pretend she didn’t feel nauseous.

“I didn’t say anything-”

“It’s that damn face you make, I can see it! Like I’m some kind of lunatic and you don’t know what to do about it.”

She could see Ursula’s look of dismay in the mirror, and that somehow made things worse. She dug her fingers into the counter and waited.

“I don’t think that, Cruella-” Ursula began, in a tone that was too calm, too collected, too " _please be quiet now you’ll wake the neighbors,"_ and Cruella didn’t wait to hear any more.

“Oh, don’t stand there and lie to me in that condescending voice! It figures you’d only be here to _help_ , you’ve always been an insufferable busybody. You feel sorry for me, that’s what this is about, that’s what all of this is about. I don’t need you, you understand? I don’t need you to watch me and make sure I’m behaving, like I’m some kind of partially trained animal.”

“Am I not allowed to ask if you’re okay?” Ursula spat out. “Does it have to be some conspiracy against you all the fucking time? It’s always like this, you act like-”

“Stop! Stop it!” Cruella screamed, and Ursula took a step back. “I know what I saw, don’t try and tell me it’s not true. You can’t do that. You know you can’t do that. I didn’t mean to shout, but you did have a-a look, I saw it, I _did_ , I...”

She heard a tentative knock on the bedroom door. They’d woken Sofie.

_Fuck._

“I’ll talk to her?” Ursula asked, and Cruella nodded. The moment the bathroom door closed, she sunk to the floor.

She hadn’t needed to start a fight, Ursula was just trying to help.

_One day she’ll realize there’s no point._ And if she kept up this kind of nonsense, that day would be coming sooner rather than later.

Cruella buried her head in her knees and tried to listen to Ursula and Sofie instead of her own thoughts.

“Hey. what are you doing up?”

“Why was Cruella yelling?”

“She was just upset, she’s okay now.”

“She’s breathing now, I bet.”

“Breathing?”

“Dr. Hopper told her to do that. Really deep breathing like this,” she could hear Sofie demonstrate even through the bathroom door.

“That’s good, that she sees him. He’s a nice guy.”

“Yeah, he talks to me too, sometimes. He has the big box of crayons with _all_ the colors.”

“Wow, that’s pretty impressive stuff.”

Ursula’s voice was gentle and attentive and Cruella could shut her own fingers in the door for suggesting she was anything but earnest and sincere and _wonderful_. More than she’d ever deserved, certainly.

”She’s sad all the time,” Sofie explained. “It’s ‘cause Daddy yells at her, even though she doesn’t do anything. Except for once she ran over my bike, but that was an accident!”

“She’s a good step-mom, huh?”

“I’m not supposed to call her that. She said it makes her sound like a witch.”

“I see. Why don’t you let me take you back up to bed, okay? And then I’ll talk to her.”

“You’ll be nice, right? Because Mommy and Daddy talk mean to her, and that doesn’t make it better. She just blinks a lot and says bad words and has to go drive. But Daddy says she can’t drive at night anymore.”

Cruella couldn’t hear anything after that, which was for the best, since her heart had settled in her throat and she wasn’t sure if she’d ever stop shaking. She jumped at the firm knock on the door a few minutes later

“Can I come in?”

Rather than answering, Cruella stood and opened the door.

“I’m finished now. You can use anything that’s in there. I’ll be in bed.”

“Actually, can I talk to you?” Ursula asked, following her to the bedroom.

“If you must…” Cruella said as she settled on the edge of the bed.

“You were right. Well, sort of. About me feeling sorry for you and wanting to help. I do, you have a lot of shit going on. And we…” Ursula bit her lip as her voice trailed off, eyes glued to the floor.

“We what?"

“...it’s just that we both know you have...problems with emotional stability," Ursula said, looking up. "And that’s okay, you know? It’s just a thing you deal with. Like my thing with heights.”

Cruella’s eyebrows shot up at the comparison. “So you mean you can’t climb ladders, and I’m crazy?”

“No, I mean like when went to that fair after we'd been dating for a few months, and I didn’t want to ride half the rides. And even though I felt so boring and awful, you stayed with me the whole time. And we rode that stupid spinning apple ride five thousand times and spent fifty bucks trying to knock down bottles to win that dumb bear.”

“I still have that, you know,” Cruella said, motioning for Ursula to sit next to her. “It’s in the closet, I think. In one of my trunks.”

“I thought for sure you’d trashed it.”

“It was an investment, darling!”

“But you understand what I’m saying, right? I’m sorry for pushing you before. You're not under attack, and you don’t need to tell me anything if you don't want to. But you can, you know?”

She nodded her head because that’s what Ursula wanted, and she was too fucking tired to try and explain that no, she couldn’t. There were so many things in her head that wouldn’t ever come out. Not without sounding all wrong.

“Thank you for putting Sofie to bed. She’s very fond of you.”

“It’s no problem. And you heard her talking out there, right? You’re probably her favorite person.”

“Well, her parents are rubbish. She doesn’t know any better, and I pity her for that.”

“I don’t think that’s totally true.”

“All I do is what I’m supposed to. I never wanted to be a mother, you know that. But when there’s a child there, you have to do certain things. It’s just the way it works. Robert doesn’t understand that. He thinks that he’s just missing some switch where dealing with a six year old becomes magical. And maybe some people _do_ find it magical, I don’t know. But it doesn’t matter, I still have things I have to do. And not just keeping her alive, either. She's a whole person. I don’t always understand what the hell she’s talking about, but if I don’t listen she’ll think what she has to say doesn’t matter, and I simply won’t stand for that.”

“Well, she loves you for it,” Ursula said, and Cruella winced at the comment.

“I didn’t say it back.”

“What’d you say instead?”

“I don’t know, something stupid.”

“And you think you should have said it?”

“I don’t know. I don’t know if…”

“If what?” Ursula asked. She had the same look in her eyes as before, but Cruella didn’t feel nearly so threatened by it now.

“What if I can’t love her the way she needs me to? You said it yourself, I’m...fucked up and difficult and-”

“-I didn’t say those things.”

“No, you said I have 'emotional stability issues,' which is the same thing.”

“No, no it isn’t. At all,” Ursula said, taking Cruella’s hand. “You are not ‘fucked up,’ okay? And if you love her, you’re allowed to say it. It doesn’t matter what kind of problems are going on in your head, you still get to love people, and you still get to have people love you.”

**S** he punctuated the speech with a kiss that Cruella sunk into. Ursula reached out a hand to cup her cheek, and Cruella nuzzled it as she pulled away, planting her own kiss at the base of Ursula’s palm.

“Bed?” she asked.

“I’ll be right back. You go ahead,” Ursula said, standing up. Cruella kept a grip on her hand.

“Ursula, what you said before, after we... you said you wanted me.”

Ursula nodded almost imperceptibly, and Cruella continued.

“Well, I...that is to say...I'm glad you said it.”

 “I know,” Ursula said, smiling. “Go on and go to sleep. I’ll be right back.”

Cruella shut the light off and lay down, but she couldn’t bear to even close her eyes until Ursula returned. She refused to miss Ursula lying down beside her again, giving that usual contented sigh as she pulled the covers up. She didn’t know how it was happening again or how many more times she could manage to make it happen in the future, but when she felt Ursula give her shoulder a kiss, she didn’t care.

 At least for tonight, everything would be easy. 


	6. Chapter 6

**Seven Years** **Ago**

 “Hey, you know that the dishwasher isn’t voice activated or anything, right? As in, you can put your own dishes in it,” Ursula said, pulling her right shoe on. “Maybe even run it once in a while.”

 

Mal gave Ursula a scathing look.

 

“I was going to wait until you left for your date. Anyway, I thought you had a fondness for lazy delinquents. Aren’t you picking your date up because she had her license revoked?”

 

Ursula sighed. Mal seemed determined to make herself as unsympathetic as possible. Quite a task, since the woman had no job, had recently been kicked out of her apartment, and had no idea who impregnated her five months ago.

 

“Suspended. And please just do the dishes. I let you stay here for basically nothing, so it would be nice if maybe you put a little effort forth.”

 

Ursula blamed her Christian upbringing for her willingness to take in a woman she’d met only once before. Like most things she’d learned in the pew of a church, “love thy neighbor” was proving to be yet another pretty verse that didn’t hold up under day-to-day application.

 

“I said I’d do them,” Mal answered back in an even tone. “There’s no reason to be so rude about it. And by the way, if you’re trying to be the hero who saves the pregnant woman from homelessness, it’s probably best not to berate her into doing chores while you run off to have sex with a barely functioning alcoholic.”

 

“You’re right. Oh well. I was going more for bitter anti-hero anyway,” Ursula said with a smile. Mal shrugged, unamused.

 

“I certainly hope she’s inebriated enough to think you’re amusing,” she added as Ursula left the room.

 

Thankfully, Cruella emerged from her apartment looking quite sober. In fact, she seemed nervous, though she tried to hide it with excessive gestures and an extra peppering of “darlings”-a speech affectation Ursula suspected might be a verbal tic.

 

“I know it might seem otherwise, darling, but I’m actually traditional with first dates. Eating and sitting and talking has always seemed like the best formula to me. And then when you told me you hadn’t been to Casella’s…”

 

And then she was off, letting hardly a moment of silence pass between them. Despite this, by the time they left Any Given Sundae at the end of the evening, Ursula had learned only four things about Cruella de Vil. First, she had a fondness for licorice ice cream. Second, she had come to Maine after her mother had died some years ago, and she now worked at a department store. Third, she had once slept with their waiter at Casella’s. Fourth, she had a habit of dismissing any further questions.

 

Not that Ursula could blame her: she wasn’t exactly forthcoming herself. The two of them sidestepped parents, childhoods, and future aspirations, and wound up caught in a mess of asinine topics. In the right hands, however, the emptiest of conversations can prove entertaining, and Cruella could work magic with her words (aided, admittedly, by her accent).

 

Secrets and bad ice cream taste aside, Ursula liked her.

 

“I can’t believe you ate that whole cone,” Ursula joked as they left the parlor.  

 

“You ate all of yours!” Cruella protested. 

 

“I got chocolate chip. A normal flavor.”

 

“There’s nothing wrong with licorice. You didn’t even try it.”

 

“And I have zero regrets about that.”

 

“Well, you eat raw fish and seaweed, which goes against every human instinct, so you’re one to talk,” Cruella said. Ursula opened her mouth to retort before she noticed that Cruella had her arms crossed in front of her and was shivering.

 

“You cold?”

 

“I’ll be fine in a minute, it’s just the ice cream.”

 

“Here, why don’t you take this?” Ursula slipped her jacket off and offered it to Cruella, who hesitated.

 

“Then won’t you be cold?”

Ursula smiled. “I don’t get ice cream chills.”

 

“Thank you,” Cruella said, taking the jacket. “I’m almost always freezing; it’s humiliating. And I would have brought my own, but I don’t have one that suits this dress.”

 

“So now you’re stuck with my thrift store one.”

 

“Is it really?” Cruella looked down and shrugged. “I actually like it. If you go into those places with the right mindset, you can find some interesting pieces.”

 

“Yeah, for instance, this one is missing a button on the side pocket,” Ursula said, pointing out the place where only a cream colored string and an empty buttonhole remained.

 

“Oh, I can sew one on, if you’d like!” Cruella said, suddenly animated. “I have boxes of buttons. I can redo all of them, any color, any size you want.”

 

“Seriously?”

 

“Yes, I do that sort of thing all the time. For myself, mostly.” Cruella looked down at the last statement, but she couldn’t hide the enthusiasm in her voice. Ursula decided to prod further.

 

“So, you’re kind of a designer?”

 

“Redesigner, really. If I were to make my own things, they’d have to be high end, and I simply don’t have the money for that. So I just fix things up, modernize...all that. And sketch a little...”

 

“That’s amazing,” Ursula said. Finally, she’d happened on something important. “I’ll have to bring some stuff over.”

 

“Please do. But fair warning: I’ll rebutton the jacket for free, but after that I’ll have to show you my pricing sheet,” Cruella said with a smirk.

 

“Is that a problem you have? People dating you to get their hems redone?”

 

Cruella laughed.  _Thank God._

 

“Oh, it’s an epidemic, darling. I’m at my wit’s end.”

 

“Well, you don’t have to worry. I like you for you, not your boxes of free buttons.”

 

“What a relief.”

 

The short silence that followed didn’t feel uncomfortable, and Ursula let it linger for a moment before speaking.

 

“Seriously, though. I’m having a really good time. Thanks for asking me.”

 

Cruella stopped and looked at her.

 

“Is that a, ‘let me take you back home so I can escape’ thank you?”

 

Ursula shook her head. “More like a ‘there’s an open mic at Jerry’s next weekend and I’m signed up to sing and I’d love it if you came with me because I really like you so I kind of want to impress you,’ thank you.”

 

“You’re a singer?” Cruella tilted her head to the side, a grin on her face. “You kept that quiet.”

 

“I mean, it’s mostly a hobby. I sing whenever I can, and then every once in a while some local event pays me to do it for way less money than I probably deserve. And I always take the offers because I have this fantasy that one day some guy is going to be in the audience and know I’m just what his record label needs. Like that’s gonna happen here, right? But I love it too much to stop.”

 

Ursula winced at the triteness of her last sentence. The whole speech had been too long to begin with, and then to end it with that? She was hopeless. 

 

“So it’s important to you?” Cruella didn't seem nearly as offended by the monologue. In fact, she looked curious. 

Ursula took a breath before answering.

 

“Yeah.”

 

“Then I wouldn’t dream of missing it,” Cruella’s matter-of-fact tone belied the significance of what she’d just said.

 

“That’s nice of you. I told Mal about it and she said she hoped I didn’t think she was planning on watching me sing shitty covers,” Ursula said, reaching for her keys.

 

“She’s vicious, darling, don’t take it personally. Speaking of which,” Cruella stopped, hand on the car door. “I was wondering if you were actually planning on going back tonight.”

 

Ursula blinked several times. “As in, you want me to spend the night at your place.” She couldn’t say it hadn’t been the back of her mind. Cruella didn’t strike her as the type to tip toe around the issue. And, if Ursula admitted it to herself, she wasn’t one for waiting long either.

 

“Well, I wouldn’t say no to a woman avoiding an unbearable roommate.”

 

“It  _is_  what she thinks I’ll be doing anyway,” Ursula said.

 

“-and we wouldn’t want to keep her from being right," Cruella grinned. 

* * *

 

  **Present**

 “Okay, let’s run it from the beginning one more time. Remember, you have to sing all the way out there to the very back. See where Miss Ariel is sitting?” Ursula gestured to the back row of the theater as Ariel waved her arm in the air. “You have to sing out so that she can hear the song, okay? Let’s go ahead and start.”

 

As the triumphant chorus of “Ding Dong, the Witch is Dead,” filled the theater for the fortieth time that day, Ursula congratulated herself on managing to control a room of twenty small children. Everything in her life was on an upswing, it seemed. Cruella’s husband was hardly ever home, meaning they had plenty of time to explore their relationship. She had received an email from an old friend in New York about a potential long term performing opportunity. Her father had even called to mend things with her, and she had graciously accepted his apology (and his offer to fund her trip to New York).

 

“Ow! Lily!” Ursula heard the shrill voice of an agitated Sofie Feinberg and hardly had time to brace herself before the inevitable: “MISS URSULA!!”

 

Another Munchkin girl stood with half a sparkling necklace clutched in her hand, the other half lying on the stage floor. Sofie stood next to her in tears, one hand tracing where the necklace must have been moments before.

 

“Lily ripped my necklace off and it hurt and it broke!” Sofie said before Ursula could open her mouth. “I said she could look and she didn’t just look, she broke it!”

 

Ursula sighed and looked at the other girl “Did you break Sofie’s necklace, Lily?”

 

As Lily looked down at the floor, Sofie burst into tears.

 

“It isn’t my necklace, it’s Cruella’s! She said to be careful, and now it’s all broken and she’s gonna be mad!”

 

“No, she isn’t going to be mad,” Ursula insisted, hoping it wasn’t a lie. Cruella could be touchy about jewelry.

 

“Lily, I want you to sit down over there in the front row for the rest of the day. And we’re going to have a talk with your mom or dad when they get here.” That done, Ursula led Sofie to the backroom to show Cruella the damaged necklace. 

 

Thankfully, Cruella’s tensed jaw ended up being the only sign that she was, as Sofie had feared, “mad.”

 

“Not to worry, darling, we can get it fixed,” she assured the child, giving her an awkward pat on the head. “No need for tears. Which one of the little beasts did it?”

 

“Lily,” Sofie replied.

 

“Lily?” Cruella looked at Ursula, eyebrows raised. “Wasn’t that Mal’s daughter’s name?”

 

“What, you think it’s her kid?” Ursula asked. “It’s not an uncommon name.”

 

“Well, if any Lily was going to do this to another person’s possessions,” Cruella held up the broken necklace. “it would be Mal’s brat.”

 

Ursula shrugged doubtfully, but Cruella was vindicated when Mal Audley entered the theater at the end of rehearsal.

 

“Ursula...I heard you got this job. I thought you didn’t want to be a teacher?”

 

Ursula plastered a neutral look on her face. “Mal, it’s nice to see you. I didn’t know Lily was your daughter.”

 

“-well, that sums up how much attention you give to these children. Ariel told me you had something to speak to me about.”

 

“I do. Lily had an incident with another girl today. She ripped a necklace off of her and broke it.”

 

“I see,” Mal said, crossing her arms. “And what exactly do you want me to do about that?”

 

_Jesus, it’s like nothing changed._

 

“I just assumed it was something you’d want to be aware of.” Ursula prayed she was successful in keeping her tone non-confrontational. “And if it happens again, we might be looking at having to remove her from the play.”

 

“Understood. And do the parents of this girl need some kind of compensation?”

 

“I can get you Robert Feinberg’s phone number, he’s her father,” Ursula moved to the front desk, but stopped at the sound of Cruella’s voice.

 

“That won’t be necessary, Ursula,” Cruella said before glaring at Mal. “We don’t want any of your money.”

 If Mal had relaxed at all during her conversation with Ursula, the alteration disappeared upon seeing Cruella. She rolled her shoulders back and lifted her chin.

 

“Cruella...that’s right, I remember reading about your wedding to Robert Feinberg in the paper. The announcement took up nearly a whole page. You’d think you were compensating for something.”

 

_This is bad._

 

“I knew it, the little fiend is your daughter,” Cruella sneered.  “And here I thought you’d taken her away to live in some commune in West Virginia, where she could have all the mummies and daddies she wanted while you harvested organic hallucinogens with a man named Shadowfoot.”

 

_This is really fucking bad._

 

“Why would I leave? I didn’t have anything to hide-”

 

“-except the narcotics under your mattress,” Cruella snapped back. Ursula thought she might be sick.

 

“Which you and your girlfriend stole after leaving my daughter alone in my apartment.”

 

 _Shit._ Ursula closed her eyes and prayed that Cruella would have the sense to change the subject or apologize or anything that might-

 

“Darling, she wasn’t  _our_  baby, I don’t what you expected us to do when you went missing for a month and a half.”

 

“This really isn’t what this is about,” Ursula interjected, her voice shaking. “We can talk about it later-”

 

Mal turned to Ursula, her hands on her hips, her eyes vicious. “Why? Are you worried I’m going to tell Gold about the fact that the two of you came dangerously close to prison sentences?”

 

“And here I thought my general demeanor ensured that was already inferred…” Cruella sat down in one of the lobby’s armchairs and leaned her head against the wall. “Darling, I’ve already told you I want nothing to do with your money, so why don’t you just leave with your pony tailed nuisance?”

 

Ursula stepped between Mal and Cruella. If they weren’t going to stop this, she would.

 

“Look, Mal...I’m sorry about what happened before. We crossed a line, and we both know that. But this is not about that time, and, all things considered, I don’t think there needs to be a discussion about it. We have our own lives now.”

 

“And hers includes taking care of a child, which is absurd and you know it.”

 

“Look, you weren’t exactly a perfect human being either, okay? You did drugs, you disappeared to do God knows what, you treated everyone else like shit...and don’t even act like you were ready to have a kid when you got pregnant. And Cruella and I helped you and you know that. Did we end up doing something fucked up? Yes. But we were all kind of awful.”

 

Mal raised her eyebrows. “I see. And now you’ve outgrown all of that pettiness.”

 

“I never said-”

 

“I know your type, Ursula. Cruella is a petulant child who can throw a theatrical tantrum, but you have the patience and brains to actually cause damage. And, if I remember correctly, you did that more than a few times while I knew you.”

 

Ursula made her hands into fists to keep them from shaking. “Mal, I don’t want to fight with you.”

 

“You just want me to keep my mouth shut or you’ll make me pay for it later. Don’t play the peacemaker card, it doesn’t suit you. We all know the kind of person you are. Maybe we were all ‘kind of awful.’ But you’re the only one who ever tried to pretend she wasn’t.”

 

“Mal, stop it,” Cruella said. “This is about your shit kid, so just talk to me about compensation or whatever the hell you want. I’m all ears.”

 

Mal nodded before turning back to Ursula. “If you’ll excuse me…”

 

Ursula went back to the emptying theater, her stomach in a knot.

 

She’s always known Mal thought she was silly, irresponsible, and incompetent. That didn’t matter. But cruel and hurtful? Had she always thought that, or was it thought up in a moment to shut her up? Was what she had said even true? Ursula liked that question even less, perhaps because she could actually answer it. 

 

“Well, darling, it’s all settled,” Cruella strutted in a few minutes later, looking pleased as could be before she noticed Ursula’s despondency. “What’s wrong?”

 

She sat down next to Ursula on the stage. “This isn’t about what Mal said, is it? You know she’s nasty as could be. Always has been. Anyway, we worked it out just fine.”

 

“But she was right. Half the time I spent around you, both of you...I thought I was better, in a way. You two always had a problem or a complex to deal with and next to that I felt normal. But I wasn’t, was I? I was kind of horrible.”

 

“We all were horrible, in our own way. And we had more fun with that than we should have. But it wasn’t why I liked you, if that’s what you’re wondering. You’re quite a lot of other things besides an angry and embittered woman with daddy issues you work out by controlling people. And I’d be happy to give you the list any time you wanted.”

 

“Thanks,” Ursula said dejectedly, and Cruella sighed.

 

“Look: you’re a better person now. I noticed that right away. All the good things you always were...you’re more of that. Not that I’m surprised, you were always the idealist, deep down. And I know that’s true because you put up with me, and the only other person who’s ever done that is Anita, who still believes that angels protect children at night.”

 

“You two are still in touch?”

 

“Well, we had an argument after she decided she wanted to start a safe haven for abandoned dogs, of all things...and  _all_  I did was suggest that fur is making its way back into fashion and she could have herself a very lucrative business if she acted now. You would have thought I tried to skin them myself...but she can’t resist being scandalized by me a few times a year, so no harm done.”

 

“That’s kind of fucked up, though,” Ursula said, laughing.

 

“Well someone has to make furs and skins and things. You wear them! And so does she, even though she won’t admit to it.”

 

“Jesus, poor Anita...she’s so sweet, you should be nicer to her.”

 

“If only being nice was as entertaining as teasing her.”

 

Ursula smiled and looked down at her feet swinging off the edge of the stage. She might as well bring it up now...

 

“So...I got an email from a guy I worked with in New York, and he’s brainstorming a show right now. He wants me to be involved. It’s really early in the planning process and it might not go anywhere, but he’s a genius so I think I need to at least go there and meet with him.”

 

“Of course you do!” Cruella grabbed Ursula’s hand. “That’s what you’ve always wanted.”

 

“If I did-and it might be nothing so this is just an  _if_ -you could come with me. To New York. I’d want you to, I mean.”

 

“Cruella?” Sofie’s voice came from behind them, and Ursula’s stomach sunk.

 

“Darling!” Cruella said, turning. “What is it?”

 

“Lily said sorry. And I said it’s okay.”

 

“That was kind of you. Now, why don’t you get your things? We’ll go home in a minute, I just have to finish talking to Miss Ursula.”

 

Sofie left and Ursula stared at her hands for a moment, her mouth dry.

 

“...I forgot about Sofie,” she said, looking back up at Cruella.  “You can’t go to New York, can you?”

 

Cruella contemplated the question before answering slowly. “Robert wouldn’t move. And he wouldn’t let me see her if I left. But maybe that’s for the-”

 

“No, there’s no way I’m fucking that up for you.”

 

“Well you can’t go alone, darling.”

 

“I did last time, and that was my choice. You’ve got a new life here and I’m not taking that away from you.”

 

“But-”

 

“Look, I don’t even know if it’ll happen. So let’s just wait and see if there’s even a reason to have this conversation.”

 

Ursula dropped down off the stage and began packing her things by the piano. A silence permeated the theater, and then Ursula heard Cruella sliding off the stage and the click of her heels on the floor. She didn’t look at her, but Cruella spoke anyway.

 

“I know what we did this weekend was...dramatic, and I understand if you think things are going too fast. But please don’t run away from me again.”

 

“I’m not running away, Cruella. I want to be with you. I told you that. And no matter what happens, that’s a priority.”

 

“Then what’s wrong with you?”

 

Ursula bit her lip, searching for the right words. “I’m supposed to be with you. I was always supposed to be with you, this whole time. And I ruined it. And no matter what happens, things will always be harder because of that. You have a kid, for fuck’s sake.”

 

“Well, she’s not my-”

 

“She is your kid. You love her and she loves you and she’s  _yours_. And I’m just this music teacher who comes over and kisses her step-mom when her dad’s not home.”

 

“And is that such a terrible thing to be? She likes you.”

 

“I’m in the way, I make things more difficult. And that’s not fair to you.”

 

Silence again. Ursula glanced at Cruella, who was gnawing at her lip. She had just gone back to packing her bag when Cruella spoke.

 

“Do you want to know what I think?”

 

Ursula stopped and met Cruella’s eyes. “Go ahead.”

 

“You’re a better person now than you were when you left. And I think, despite my very best efforts, I am too. We wouldn’t have been happy six years ago if we’d left together. It’s better this way, whether it’s easy or not.”

 

Ursula didn’t know what to say to that.

 

“It’s like what you said the other night,” Cruella continued. “About the fair. I want to be with you. I have always wanted to be with you. And I don’t care what I have to do, I don’t care what  _you_  have to do. I don’t care, Ursula.”

 

“But Sofie-”

 

“-Sofie is waiting for me to take her home so she can have a snack. And you are going to a very important meeting that might give you something you’ve always wanted,” Cruella reached for Ursula’s hand. “We’re together the way we both know we should be. Everything is fine. And I won’t let you spoil now because you’re afraid of later.”

 

“You’re not worried?”

 

“Not one bit, darling. Now, I’m going home,” she declared, giving Ursula’s hand a squeeze and her cheek a kiss. “I’ll call you tonight.”

 

Only Cruella didn’t call. Ursula tried to busy herself with planning her trip to New York, but her eyes kept flitting back to her phone, which remained silent all evening. Finally, Ursula convinced herself that perhaps Cruella had meant that  _she_  should call.

 

Cruella answered before the first ring had finished. “Hello?”

 

“Hey, I remembered we were going to talk tonight. How’s everything with-”

 

“Listen, Ursula, I can’t talk right now. We have company.”

 

“Oh, I’m sorry. You didn’t say-”

 

“-I didn’t know until a few hours ago!” Cruella’s voice was panicked and she was almost whispering. “I have to go, darling.”

 

“You want me to call back?”

 

“No, please don’t. I’ll see you tomorrow at rehearsal. Goodbye.”

 

Ursula stared at her phone. Cruella had a flair for the dramatic when thinking up excuses: she’d never have cited something as mundane as unexpected company.  Anyway, Ursula hadn’t done anything wrong and just that afternoon Cruella had been _fine._

 

Then, just as Ursula was about to get into bed, her phone went off.

 

“Cruella?”

 

“Darling, I’m so sorry about before, I was a bit touchy. An old friend stopped by, completely unexpected, and I was on edge about the whole thing.”

 

“That’s all right. So how’d it go?”

 

“Oh, fine, darling. Fine.”

 

“That was enthusiastic...so what kind of friend is this? Someone from back home?”

 

“....you know, I’m really very tired, darling. I just called to apologize for being so sharp with you before. I didn’t want you to go to bed angry with me.”

 

“You’re not avoiding telling me who your friend is, are you? Is it an ex or something?” Ursula teased.

 

“Ursula, I told you I’m tired. And it’s fine,” Cruella snapped. “You’re always fussing, but it’s fine. Absolutely fine, I’ve got it all under control.”

 

Ursula frowned. “What under control?”

 

“Just...it’s an expression, darling! You pick apart everything. I’ve said it’s fine, and it is. Just fine. And I can keep it that way. That’s all I meant.”

 

Ursula considered telling Cruella she sounded like everything was far from fine, but chose to avoid an argument.

 

“All right. Thanks for calling. Hey, I’m officially going to New York tomorrow! Bought my ticket and everything.”

 

“That’s wonderful,” Cruella said without much enthusiasm. She seemed almost distracted. “I’ll see you tomorrow, darling. Good night.”

 

Once again, Cruella didn’t wait for Ursula’s reply before hanging up the phone. Ursula could understand if a badly timed and awkward visit had soured Cruella’s mood. Something in Cruella’s tone, however, gave Ursula the feeling that what had just happened couldn’t be pinned on a mood change.

 

Ursula tried to ignore Mr. Feinberg’s voice in her head.

 

_“I told you she’d go strange on you. I swear...borderline or something...she gets these ideas…”_

 

What he had said was patronizing and even cruel. Cruella knew her psychological state better than anyone else, and it wasn’t his or Ursula’s or anyone’s place to believe otherwise. She  _didn’t_  believe otherwise.

 

But that didn’t change the fact that something was wrong.

 


	7. Chapter 7

**Fifteen Years Ago**

“Like I said before: I’m very sorry this happened to you and your family. But that young man you were talking about got picked up at the house, and he’ll be here in a few. And your aunt was informed and will take care of all the necessary arrangements, I’m sure.”

The officer kept listing off reasons why she, “Miss Cruella de Vil,” shouldn’t take her mother’s death too much to heart. He didn’t know she had her own list she’d been laboring over for years, and the drone of his voice only kept her from leaping up and celebrating her newfound freedom. Funeral arrangements…as though she’d be attending any funeral. She could have laughed at the paltry crowd who would show up for such an event, but ducked her head and bit her lip instead as the officer bleated out some nonsense about how-of-course-she-couldn’t-have-been-expected-to-stop-it. Then the door opened, and Isaac Heller fell into the room, his stupid face bloodless and horror stricken.

“Well, here he is! I was just telling Miss Cruella we’d picked you up. A real relief for her, to see you. She’s been worried about you showing up for the better part of an hour. I’m Officer Dunbright,” he said, holding out his hand.

Isaac ignored the officer and looked right at Cruella, who met his gaze. “What happened?”

Cruella didn’t move to say anything, and Officer Dunbright answered instead. “An accident with the dogs. Jumped on Mrs. de Vil and killed her.”

“She’s dead? But I-I spoke to her just an hour ago; she can’t be.”

“Well, she is. Apparently not a surprise to the neighbors or her daughter here. She trained those dogs to be nasty, and that’s what they were. Pity. Now, I know you were coming up to the house to pick up Miss Cruella here. I’m going to let you leave with her. That all right?”

Cruella tilted her head to the side, observing Isaac’s Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat. He was endearing, in a way. His sentimentality was repugnant, but he had a generous face. Cruella never had any trouble taking meaning from it. He despised her already, she could tell. But his sense of entitlement and desire to hear the rest of the story would win out.

“Well-I….yes, Officer,” he finally stammered out. “She’d better come with me.”

Cruella let him lead the way, not even minding that Isaac made it impossible to keep pace with him. The sooner they finished here, the sooner she could get on with things that actually mattered. They’d hardly left the station when he turned on her.

“What did you do it for, Cruella?”

“Do what? You don’t mean me taking your silly pen, do you? I just wanted to make sure you’d come back for me, and I knew you’d miss it. I have it right here, in my bag,” Cruella procured the heavy pen and dangled it in front of Isaac’s face. “I didn’t let it out of my sight for one minute.”

“I mean your mother! She told me everything, Cruella.” Isaac let the comment linger for a moment before continuing. “About your father and step-fathers. And now you’ve killed her too, I know it.”

“The dogs killed her, darling. Tore her to bits. There’s no denying that.”

“But you knew it would happen. You made it happen. I can tell. You don’t look sorry at all. You look happy.”

“Why shouldn’t I be?” Cruella shrugged. “She hated me and I hated her. Now she’s dead, and it was her own fault. There’s really nothing to be sorry about.”

Isaac looked for a moment as though he believed her and would like to go right back to thinking she was his personal artistic muse, delicate and fair and entirely unreal. Then he shook his head and spoke, his voice hoarse. “Even if you didn’t…her husbands. You killed them, that’s why she had you locked up. Do you deny it?”

This was the first time anyone but her mother had looked at her with such revulsion, had ascribed to her ugly deeds and even uglier intent. Cruella found that all it did was make the room quite cold. And then her fingers were cold. And then she didn’t feel anything.

What did it matter? He was _nothing_. And once she left this room and freed herself from his vicious stare, she would also be nothing. She’d been small and wretched for so long, and now she could be as large and gaudy and full as she liked. But first, if only for a few moments, she would be nothing.

“I don’t deny it, but only because if I did you might think I was lying to appease you. And I couldn’t bear for you to think I cared enough about you to do that.” The words themselves were as cold and numb as she felt, and she didn’t quite know if she’d said all of them aloud. By the horrified expression on Isaac’s face, she guessed the main points had made their way to him.

“So it’s all true? You did all of this to trick me so you could get rid of your mother and…”

God, but he was tiresome, with his dropping jaw and twisting hands. She’d never been real to him, and so nothing she said to him would ever be real. So the words kept slipping out. Chilled and soft and unnatural. But that’s what he wanted, in his heart of hearts, and who was she to deny him his biting and self-pitying ending?

“-and do what, exactly? Murder the townspeople? You’re the writer, don’t make me fill in the sordid details. Because if you asked me, all I’d tell you is that I’m going to go and do all the things we spoke about. Alone. You see, I have money now. I don’t need you. Though I am grateful to you, truly. You were wonderfully malleable, which will make you a fantastic novelist, I’m sure. A pathetic excuse for a person, maybe. But a really lovely author.”

She held out his pen for him to take, and he snatched it from her, as though if she held it too long something of her depravity might sink into the ink itself. She chuckled, and he looked at her with eyes that shone with anger. He opened his mouth, but said nothing, and then he turned to leave, muttering something about how she could find her own damned way home.

“Let me know when your first book comes out, darling!” she called out to him. “I want a signed copy. And please: don’t make it about me. That’s been awfully overdone, don’t you think?”

He never looked back, and Cruella stood still on the pavement for a moment, letting the sneer from her lips and glare in eyes fade in nothingness before she turned and looked up to find the nearest bus station.

 

* * *

 

 

**Present**

Cruella had lived long enough to know that there were certain things you couldn’t spend more than five seconds thinking about. Sometimes you needed those five seconds, of course. A smell in the air or a door shutting in just that certain way would make it come roaring through your head, pressing painfully on all sides. And that was all right, so long as you made sure it was gone in five seconds. Five seconds was a long time, sometimes too long. But it was the only number Cruella had ever known to work.

Except now it had stopped working. She knew why, of course. That bastard had shown up at her house last night, and from his first arrogant little smirk she’d known there would be no counting down so long as he remained to leer at her. Isaac Heller wasn’t in the business of letting people forget. He scribbled and hid tape recorders in rooms and was generally nosy and unbearable.

He hadn’t said much to her last night, after he’d wormed his way into her home by pretending he was an old friend. He had plenty to say about her, though most of it was fabricated: they’d met in school as children and he used to climb that awful knotty tree in her yard and pick blossoms off of it to give to her…a contrived and sappy tale Cruella hoped he was making up on the spot and would never tell to anyone else.

He wanted something from her. Not for the first time. Every once in a while he came creeping in, wanting an apology. Wanting her blood, even. But he settled for money or sex or a reference. Even still, something felt different this time. He laughed with her husband instead of lurking in the shadows, and his smile was triumphant and sinister, as though he’d won a secret prize of immense value. Upon leaving, he told her that he would be dropping by the house the next afternoon.

 “So we can talk,” he added, and Cruella knew that, whatever he wanted, he believed he already had it. Worse still, he might not want anything and had finally decided to collect on the secrets he had been holding for years.

The possibilities hummed in her head, where they had to remain, for Ursula knew nothing of Isaac. Cruella would give the man the whole damn house for things to remain that way. She almost cancelled their lunch date for fear of giving something away, but decided that would only make matters worse. Anyway, Ursula deserved a proper sending off before going to New York. Cruella could pretend to be fine for a few hours.

So she went and blamed the events of the night before on being too tired and having had one too many glasses of wine. Ursula didn’t entirely believe her, she could see that. But Cruella changed the subject with speed, and soon she herself almost believed that nothing was wrong.

That illusion ended when they saw the car parked in front of Cruella’s home upon returning from lunch. Cruella held back a groan, and glanced at Ursula, hoping the vehicle hadn’t attracted her attention.

“Whose car is that?” Ursula asked, leaning over the steering wheel, as though a closer look might give her the information she wanted.

“Oh, probably a business partner I’m supposed to entertain...Robert does this all the time, it’s really absurd. And rude of him. God knows how long they’ve been sitting the house,” Cruella would have continued babbling, but Ursula’s expression of disbelief stopped her. “Anyway, you’d better get to the airport, darling. I’ll call you tonight.”

“All right,” Ursula said, still eyeing the car. “Let me know if you need anything. I’ll see you in three days.”

Cruella opened her front door to find the rat perched on the bottom step of the staircase.

“It’s about time!”

“I can’t control traffic, Isaac. But I’m sorry to have kept you waiting, though it’s customary to wait in the car until someone who lives in the house arrives to let you in. You want anything to drink?”

She started toward the hallway, but Isaac didn’t move to follow.

“No, that's all right. This shouldn't take too long. I just wanted to give you a quick rundown of how things are going to go from here on out.” He stood up, then, and Cruella swallowed back a sense of dread.

“Look, if you just wait for me to speak with my husband, I can get you as much money as you want. We don’t need all this fuss, darling. Not after all this time. Just give me a week and-”

“It’s too late, Cruella. I don’t want any more of your money. Or, should I say, Robert Feinberg’s money. I shouldn’t have taken any of it in the first place. I realize that now. All I want, all I’ve ever wanted, is to tell the world what you are. It’s taken me some time to build up a name for myself, a credible name. An honest name. I can tell my story and people will listen, Cruella. People will listen, and you’ll be back to running. That’s what I want.”

He was showboating, that was all. He wanted her desperate so he could get more…Cruella clung to that hope as she scoffed, ignoring the near visible pounding in her chest.

“You think anyone will believe a man who has written a few novelty columns in the paper? But have it your way, if that’s what you want. Don’t take the money. Publish whatever you’d like. No one will believe you, no one will care, and you’ll be out of your primary source of income.”

“Is that so? Then you don’t mind that I ran my rough draft by your husband’s office this morning?”

 _He wouldn’t have._ But the gleam in his eyes left no room for denial.

“Darling, if you think you’re the first con artist trying to gain his attention then I’m afraid you’re even less equipped for this than I thought,” Cruella said, trying to steady herself. He hadn’t won anything yet. “He won’t even read it. And even if he did...well, there’s no reason to believe it. Just your word, and I’m afraid that’s not worth much to him.”

Isaac smirked. “And yours is?”

She attempted a response, but a ding came out of her bra instead. Isaac laughed, and Cruella took out her phone with fumbling fingers.

_You ok?_

Cruella didn’t dare look out the window, but she would have bet anything that Ursula still sat parked by the curb outside.

 _Yes,_ she lied.

“Your lover, I assume?” Isaac smiled when Cruella’s head shot up. “If I knew who he was, I’d warn him.”

“If you don’t want any money, then I have nothing more to say to you. Get out.”

Isaac complied, though he stopped in the doorway and grinned at her. “Goodbye, Cruella. I have to say...I’m looking forward to seeing how this plays out.”

Cruella went to the kitchen and poured herself a glass of water only to find that it tasted like metal. She emptied the glass and settled down at the kitchen table. Thumbing through old newspaper coupons, she heard the garage door open.

Sofie came first, skipping into the house and waving at Cruella upon seeing her.

“I made a craft!” she exclaimed before Robert entered behind her, one hand coming to rest on her shoulder.

“Go on and put your things away. I have to talk to Cruella about something.”

The stack of papers in his hand and the look of disgust on his face made the truth unavoidable. He’d read it, and Isaac had won.

“Do you want to explain this to me?” Robert asked, throwing the papers on the table in front of her.

“Well, I would if I knew what it was, darling.”

“Your friend from last night dropped it off.”

“Oh, well, I warned you. Isaac is always trying to peddle his work to people with more power than him,” Cruella said. Perhaps, if she played everything off just right…but Robert looked unamused.

“This one’s about you.”

“About me?” Cruella feigned a shocked expression. “He never told me anything about that. I’m sure I don’t have to tell you not to believe everything you read, darling. Isaac always had an overactive imagination.”

“And according to him you have an overactive tendency to lie and cheat and…” Robert stopped there, a muscle jumping his jaw and one hand clenched tight on the back of a chair. “He says you killed no less than three men. Poisoned them in cold blood.”

Cruella opened her mouth to find that she had no idea what to say. _So much for playing it all off._

“So you know something about this,” Robert said, his eyebrows raising along with his voice. “Why don’t you tell me what happened to your father and your two stepfathers? You just tell me what really happened, Cruella...unless this Heller really does have a story on his hands. Only you would know.”

He sounded furious, but his eyes told her the truth. Robert had always been a pig and a bully, and now he’d gotten what he’d always wanted. She was the unnatural, unreasonable, and unbearable wife he’d been lamenting for years, and now he could pin something truly vile on her.

 _Let him._ But she wouldn’t let him make her small.

“I don’t have to tell you anything,” Cruella snarled. “You’ve never asked, not once, about my family or my parents or-or anything. And I don’t see why it should matter now, now that some pathetic writer is pushing slander at you.”

“You’re a liar.”

“How would you know?”

“It doesn’t matter how I know. You’re a liar, and I want you out of this house. Now.”

“You can’t throw me out!”

“I just did! You have been more trouble than you’re worth for years now-”

“-how dare you-”

“-and now you’re in all likelihood a murderer as well! I should have known; how many doctors have I paid for you to go see? You’ve always been cracked in the head, and now the truth is coming out. I want you out and I want you out now.”

A silence filled the room for an instant, and in that silence Cruella heard the near inaudible footsteps of Sofie as she crept down the stairs. Sure enough, she appeared in another moment, wearing a look of distress.

“Why are you yelling?” she asked, though Cruella knew Sofie already had a pretty good idea of why: because that’s what her father did to her step-mother, and eventually one of them would storm out and she could eat her after-school snack.

“It doesn’t matter why,” Robert barked. “Go upstairs. Now.”

“But I’m hungry!”

“Do what I say!”

Sofie slunk back around the corner, and Robert waited a moment before turning back to Cruella.

“Darling,” Cruella interjected before he could speak. “I think we ought to talk about this. There’s an explanation for what he wrote. I do know where he gets the story and, truth be told, I’d have liked to keep it all quiet, but if you must know-”

“I’m not interested, Cruella. You think you can talk your way out of anything, and I’m through with it. You want some truth? I’ve already had divorce papers drawn up. I was waiting for the right time, and now this? There’s nothing you can say that I need to hear.”

“You can’t do that.” The words slipped out, desperate and broken.

“I can and I will. You find a new rich husband to con out of his money while you screw his kid’s teacher on the side.”

Cruella cursed herself for not swearing Sofie to secrecy about Ursula’s visits. It hadn’t seemed important-as though Robert cared about what she did while he was away-but now the oversight appeared devastating.

“Darling, we had an agreement about that-”

“- I never agreed to you sleeping with women in the home where my daughter lives like some kind of-”

“-like a what? You’ve had women in this house, I know you have! And Sofie knows exactly what they’re here for. She’s told me about them.”

“Get out! Get the fuck out!”

Cruella stood up, then. She couldn’t stay. She didn’t want to stay. Robert might think he had won, but what a small price to pay to never see his face again. Anyway, she still had one card left to play that would leave him bewildered.

“Have it your way,” she said before calling out to the ceiling. “Sofie! We’re leaving!”

Robert looked up with her in dismay for a moment, speechless. “What the hell are you talking about? Sofie isn’t-”

“Oh, yes she is,” Cruella snarled. “If you want things to go easily for you, she is coming with me. I do more for her than you’ve ever done, and if I leave her here she’ll starve or grow up to be just as emotionally vacant and horrid as you.”

“You are not taking my child-”

“You can have everything else! The money, the clothes...print this fucking thing in the Times for all I care!” Cruella waved the papers in his face before dropping them on the table, where they scattered. “But I’m not leaving without the girl.”

Robert stared at her, eyes narrowed, and Cruella knew she had managed to puzzle him. She only hoped she’d done enough.

“You don’t want her, Cruella. You’ve never wanted her. You’re going to hold her over my head to get everything, and I’m not buying into it.”

“Did you not hear me? You can keep everything. I’ll sign anything you want right now.”

“Is that so? Let’s see if she feels the same way about you. Sofie!” Sofie crept out from around the corner in a moment, but Robert didn’t take the time to scold her for eavesdropping. “Cruella’s leaving. Forever. And she wants to take you with her to go live in whatever motel she can afford after I cut her off. She wants to take you away from me, probably because she killed her own father and-”

“Robert, stop it,” Cruella murmured.

“I’m giving her the information,” Robert replied, intent on Sofie. “She’s in the first grade now; she’s smart enough to know what she wants. And if that’s her mentally ill and effectively homeless step-mother with a homicide problem, then you have nothing to worry about.”

“Why are you going?” Sofie asked, one thumbnail teasing the edge of her mouth.

“Your father doesn’t want me here anymore,” Cruella said in a soft voice, burdened with the realization that she might end up leaving with less than she’d had before.

Sofie’s eyes widened. “But why? I don’t want you to go!”

“Of course you don’t,” Cruella looked at Robert. “You see? She wants to be with me. Come along, darling. We’ll get your things.”

She waltzed past Robert and up the stairs, Sofie in tow. Robert didn’t follow and didn’t protest. At first, Cruella was sure he’d called the police. She jumped at every sound and threw Sofie’s things into bags without any care, breaking an arm off of a ballerina figure in the first minute. Sofie stood and watched, but said nothing, her fingers in her mouth and her whole figure trembling. Soon enough, Cruella had finished, and they tumbled down the stairs with their overheavy luggage.

Robert sat at the table, his eyes on the day’s paper. He looked up for a moment and shrugged.

“Take her, if you want,” he said. “But if you’ve got some plan to get something out of me with her, you can forget about it. And if her mother murders you for taking her…well, I won’t be sorry.”

And then he and the house and all the lovely things in it were gone. Cruella sped down the road, her mind swallowed up by an all-consuming need to _leave._ She wasn’t Mrs. Feinberg, and she never would be again. The faster she went, the farther away it all felt. She’d never been Mrs. Feinberg, not really. Just a costume to put on and take off, and it was gone now, all of it.

And then her eyes caught a glimpse of the tearstained face in the backseat, and she slammed to a full stop in the middle of the (thankfully empty) road. Sofie cried out as everything in the car jolted forward before springing back to place, rattled and unsteady.

 _What had she done?_ Sofie didn’t belong in that empty and cold house, and she didn’t belong with her selfish mother. But what the _fuck_ was Cruella supposed to do with her? She didn’t have any idea what she was going to do with _herself_ , let alone a little girl.

“Please don’t cry, darling,” she managed to croak out, after pulling to the side of the road. “There was a rabbit in the road, that’s all. I didn’t even hit it.”

“Where are we going?”

“Well, I…” _Don’t know, sorry. I’m driving you to nowhere._ Sofie sniffled. She understood what silence meant.

And then she remembered. _Anita._ She was a bit out of the way, what with her new love of farming, but other than that it was ideal.

“Give me one minute, darling,” Cruella said to the backseat. “I’ve got a call to make. I know exactly where we’re going. And I know you’ll like it.”

Sure enough, Anita reacted with as much sympathy as anyone could muster, with one only one small hang up (“Oh, but Cruella…you didn’t _steal_ her?”).

“You’re welcome to stay with us,” she said, having established that Sofie would not be on the evening news. And that was that. Sofie had never been to a farm, and the prospect of finally seeing one excited her enough to keep her from moping. Anita had wisely put all the dogs away by the time Cruella pulled up to the house, meaning she could only hear the beasts through the fence. Sofie had her things put in a room she would share with Anita’s eldest, Mave.

The whole house bustled and seemed pressed at its very seams. Cruella sat on the couch, stiff and without any bearings, watching the constant movement with a vague sense of horror. Sofie looked pleased at the prospect of live-in playmates, and she soon became the eager tutor of Mave, who had just learned how to play checkers. Cruella observed their game, having not much else to do. Sofie seemed quite happy, sitting there and babbling away to someone who actually understood. Cruella felt a little less like she was drowning, watching her.  

Her phone rang, then, and she remembered she ought to have called Ursula some time ago. Sure enough, it was her. Cruella took a second to prepare herself for the lying she was about to attempt before answering.

“Darling?”

“Cruella! Are you okay?”

Ursula sounded urgent, as though she’d just been told Cruella may or may not have survived some horrendous accident.

“Of course! Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Really? Because your husband called me and said you left with Sofie, so I should be on the lookout for boarders.” Cruella winced, but the damning words hadn’t been spoken yet, and she could still make it all seem right.

“Well, I did leave. But it really wasn’t a great tragedy. He hated me, I hated him…and Sofie is with me and we’re at Anita’s and everything is fine. I was going to tell you.”

Ursula sighed on the other end, and Cruella felt her stomach twist.

“He told me that old friend of yours told him some things about you, and he doesn’t think you’re safe.”

Cruella closed her eyes and waited, bent over double in anticipation for the coming storm.

“Were you going to tell me about that part?” Ursula asked, her voice slow and soft. She wasn’t angry. She was hurt. And nothing Cruella could tell her would change that.

“No,” she whispered. “And I’m sorry. But I have to go.”

She hung up the phone and sat up to find Anita approaching.

“Cruella? Do you and Sofie eat tofu?” she asked.

“Sofie will eat anything except black olives. And I’m going to be leaving, so don’t make anything for me,” Cruella said, standing up.

“Leaving?” Anita followed Cruella out the door and caught her arm on the porch.

“Cruella, why don’t you stay?”

“I can’t, but I need you to watch her,” Cruella cocked her head in the direction of the house.

“But-”

“Don’t you understand? She doesn’t have anyone. She’s fucked unless you take her.”

“She has you. If you’d just stay and talk-”

“I’m sick of talking, Anita. Because all it is, all it ever fucking is, is people telling me things and expecting me to understand. And then I pretend to understand even though I don’t. And they pretend to understand me, and they don’t. I’m so tired of it all. I’m tired. And I’m leaving.”

“What do I tell Sofie?” Anita said, chasing Cruella to her car.

“If I knew that, don’t you think I’d go in there and tell her myself?” Cruella said, the sting of the words sitting on her tongue after she shouted them. Anita stepped back, her face bloodless and her eyes filled with tears.

“Let me call someone,” she whispered. “Whatever it is…we can fix it.”

“You’re not listening to me. I have to leave,” Cruella said. “And if you don’t let me, Anita, I’ll…I’ll never come back again. And I want to. But I can’t…I c _an’t_ be here now.”

Anita nodded. “I’ll take care of Sofie. I promise. But you have to promise me you’ll take care of yourself.”

“I thought you knew by now that that’s the only thing I’m good at,” Cruella said before getting into her car and driving off.

 

 

 


	8. Chapter 8

**Seven Years Ago ******

_She was emptied out, gutted, with everything she’d ever been spilled on the floor, leaving her to sift through it, gasping in pain, tears cutting her voice off even as she tried to cry out._

_How could something so empty hurt so much?_

_“You deliberately disobeyed me! Went behind my back and lied to my face!”_

_He was looking up. He always looked up, like she was standing on a stage and not writhing at his feet. She tried to tell him, she tried so hard...and he never looked down._

Ursula sat up in bed, her cheeks hot and the pit of her stomach cold. Her fingernails pinched the palms of her hands as she tried to measure her breathing so as not to wake Cruella.

They’d been living together for only a little over a week. She didn’t need to know about the nightmares.

“Something the matter, darling?” Cruella murmured. still half under the covers. She reached out for Ursula, one hand skimming her bare arm. She lifted her head, then, frowning.

“You’re all sweaty.”

“Sorry,” Ursula said. “Bad dream.”

Cruella stared at her before sitting up, her mouth half open and her brow knit. Then she shook her head, rolled her shoulders back, and let her feet drop to the floor on the side of the bed.

“I’m thirsty. You want a glass?” she asked as she stood up.

“Yeah.”

Cruella would never ask, would never press, but she knew. She knew because Ursula could hear her fumbling around in the kitchen with glasses. That's how Cruella was. Always trying to say what she didn’t know how to say by trying something else.

She came back with a tray, and as she set it down Ursula saw half a dozen remaining cookies from an ill conceived foray into baking Cruella had attempted. The cookies tasted fine. But five dozen snickerdoodles had been decidedly too many.

“You know, we never finished these,” Cruella said, handing a glass of water off to Ursula. “You want one?”

“Cruella, it’s two in the morning.”

“And?”

 ****"I’m really not hungry.”

“Suit yourself,” Cruella said, plucking a cookie from the plate and shrugging, though the darting glances she sent Ursula’s way spelled continued concern. _I should have just eaten one._

Ursula leaned her head back and closed her eyes, but the image wouldn’t go away.

“Darling!” The alarm in Cruella’s voice was muted, but enough for Ursula’s eyes to pop open.

“What?” she asked, though she knew the answer the minute she opened her eyes.

Cruella opened her mouth only to close it, instead choosing to swipe her fingers across Ursula’s cheek, spreading the tears Ursula had hardly known were there.

“I’m sorry,” Ursula said. “It’s so stupid.”

“Stop that. Now, we’ll just go back to sleep, and you’ll feel better.”

“I don’t think I can.”

“Well, I’ll stay up, if you’d rather. Though, if we’re going to stay awake, you really should share these with me. Or else I’ll eat all of them and be sick.”

She grinned at Ursula, who smiled back.

“Hand me one.”

****______****

* * *

 

**Present**

“This ignoring me shit isn’t cute anymore, Cruella. You need to pick up. I have no idea what’s going on, and it’s scaring the crap out of me. And I think...no, I don’t think-I _know_ that I deserve to know that you’re okay. Or if you’re not okay or...just fucking call me. I need you to call me. I’m gonna say that again: I need you. To call me. Okay? Goodbye.”

Maybe the tenth message would be the charm. Ursula leaned back in her seat, stared at the airport ceiling for a moment, and sighed before snapping back to a crouched position, eyes glued to her phone. Ten minutes before boarding.

 _Please fucking call._ It was the least she could do, after Ursula had postponed her meetings and gotten a last minute return flight ticket. She just needed to hear that Cruella was there, alive and aware and herself. To know Ursula would be coming back to something other than utter tragedy.

Miraculously, the phone rang, Cruella’s name popping up on the screen, and Ursula jumped up before answering.

“Hey,” she said, suddenly breathless. “Are you-”

“No,” Cruella said. “No I’m not fucking okay. But you wanted me to call and say that, and now I have, and you can do whatever the hell you want with it.”

“What’s going on? Can I-”

“No, you can’t. Nothing is ‘going on,’” Cruella spat out. “It’s just me and this shit life and this shit brain and it’s been that way since I can remember anything at all. What do you want me to say?”

“Anything. I just want to know you’re there, and you can hear what I’m saying.”

“I’ve listened to all your messages, if that’s what you mean.” Ursula swallowed back a retort. Any recognition that Cruella’s tone was vicious and unfair would only make things worse. She couldn’t afford that. Not when she was miles away.

“Are you going to let me see you when I get back?” she asked.

“Probably,” Cruella said after a pause, and Ursula closed her eyes in relief.

“Great. I’ll call you when I get in, okay? I have to board.”

Though it hadn’t been especially heartfelt, the phone call kept Ursula from worrying too much during the flight. She even managed to keep her heart rate down when Cruella didn’t answer her phone after she landed. After leaving a short message, she made her way to the baggage claim, only to stop upon seeing her father standing outside the terminal.

_You’ve got to be fucking kidding me._

“Dad? What are you-?”

“I wanted to speak with you, and I knew if I didn’t meet you here you’d blow me off.”

“Now’s really not a good time,” Ursula said, walking past him. He followed, of course, and Ursula tried to keep from rolling her eyes.

“Why did you cancel on those people, Ursula?” he asked once they reached the baggage claim and Ursula was forced to stop.

“I didn’t cancel, Dad. I rescheduled.”

“But why?”

Ursula sighed. _I really need to start coming up with excuses in advance..._

“Because of work. They needed me for something, and the thing about this kid’s theater is it’s all kind of thrown together. So there was no rearranging it the other way. I have to go deal with it.”

It was complete bullshit, and Ursula almost winced at her father’s look of disbelief once she’d finished. Even for her, it was transparent. Still, she went back to looking for her bag, hoping the moment might pass.

“You know that’s a lie, Ursula,” her father finally said. “And you have to know that I know that’s a lie.”

“What if it is?” Ursula said, looking at him. “Is it any of your business?”

“Considering it’s my money you’re using, I’d say so.”

Ursula hesitated before trying again. It was a fair point, after all. Perhaps a half-truth would do the trick?

“...A friend of mine isn’t doing well here in town, and I’m worried about her so I came back,” she said, turning to grab her purple bag which was coming around the corner.

“This wouldn’t happen to be the troublesome woman you brought to church the other week?” he asked, and Ursula could have kicked something.

“That would be her,” she said dryly.

“Ursula, you can’t put your career on the line for a coworker you’re friendly with. She has family and friends of her own, doesn’t she?”

The words stung.

“Not really. And even if she did that doesn’t mean…” she stopped and shook her head. “Okay, you know what? You want the truth?”

“Yes,” he replied, and Ursula closed her eyes for a moment before speaking.

“Cruella was-is...well...she was and now she sort of is…” Ursula sighed.

_Fuck it._

“I’m a lesbian, Dad, okay? And Cruella and I dated a few years ago. We lived together, actually. And I still love her, and I think she still loves me, and we’ve been seeing each other again. And she’s in a lot of pain, and I’m worried about her and I needed to come back to make sure she’s okay. Maybe you don’t want to hear about this right now. But I have to tell you. I'm not going to let something happen to her because I was too busy trying to make you happy. That’s all I’ve spent so long trying to do, and I want to do it. But I can’t if it means cutting off a part of who I am and letting it die like this. I can’t.”

People were looking at them now, though Ursula felt she had done a surprisingly good job at keeping her emotions in check. Her father looked at her for a long while, and Ursula felt her heart sink. The disappointment didn’t surprise her, but it hurt nonetheless.

“What happened to her?” he finally asked. “Your...Cruella. What’s wrong with her?”

Ursula raised her eyebrows. She hadn’t expected _that_.

“Her husband-”

“Oh, her husband!” Her father chuckled, and Ursula felt her stomach twist. She should have known better. “So this is a lesbian _affair_. Wonderful. Any children whose lives you’re playing with as well?”

“It’s not like that, they had an open relationship-” Ursula began before cutting herself off. Now that she’d started being honest, it wouldn’t fucking stop.

“Oh, of course,” her father said. “An open relationship. Go on.”

“Why? So you can keep treating me like shit?” Ursula picked up her bag and went outside, but her father followed, and Ursula slammed her bag down before glaring at his smirking face.

“What the fuck do you have to be so smug about? This wouldn’t have happened if you hadn’t made me feel like I couldn’t tell you about her before. She never would have married him if I hadn’t left her here when I went to New York.”

“Now all of your poor choices _and_ her poor choices are my fault? I was supposed to know you were living with another woman and you didn’t want me to know, and then I was supposed to encourage you to bring her along so I could pay for her to live in New York as well? Is that what should have happened?”

“It starts before that, Dad, and you know it.”

“I don’t know, Ursula. I have no idea what you are talking about.”

“You don’t? Because it’s happening right now. This is a joke to you. You’re so busy judging me, you don’t even see me anymore. I’m not your daughter, I’m just part of some freak show. And this always happens. The second I step out of bounds with you, it’s like I’m nothing.”

Then it was quiet, and Ursula could practically feel how her words had wiped the grin off of her father’s face. They both watched a couple pass by them into the crosswalk before her father turned to her and spoke.

“I’m sorry you feel that way. But you’re exactly the same to me as you were five minutes ago. Same temper,” her father laughed again, though not as cruelly as before. “And you’re loyal to your core. Fiercely, beautifully. That was the first thing your mother and I knew about you, Ursula. That you didn’t let go of things. And maybe sometimes we don’t agree on what those things should be. But you can always tell me, and I will try to see it your way. I will try, Ursula.”

Ursula looked down at her boots.

“Great,” she muttered.

“I know you want to leave and see her,” she heard him say. “Go on. And you tell her if she needs anything…”

Ursula looked up at him, and a smile had returned to his face.

“Thanks, Dad. I appreciate that. I’ll see you later, okay?”

She glanced at her phone once she reached her car. Cruella had left a terse message with the name and address of a local motel. Ursula wrote it down before picking up a pizza. She knew Cruella had a tendency to forget to eat when she was in distress. Besides, she hadn’t eaten anything all day herself.

Cruella’s chosen hideout was scummy and dimly lit, but at least the woman at the front desk was friendly enough in giving her directions. Ursula knocked on Room 38’s door, and Cruella opened it almost immediately. The bags under her eyes were pronounced, thought she didn’t appear as disheveled as Ursula had anticipated.

“Hey,” Ursula said, and Cruella moved to let her in.

“I brought pizza.”

“Is that why you’re late?” Cruella asked, leaning against the wall. “Because I’m not hungry.”

“What do you mean, I’m late?”

“You said you’d landed and you were coming right over and to tell you where I was. And then I called back and left a message and you didn’t even respond. I didn’t know if you were even still coming. Unlike you, I didn’t see the need to call three dozen times, but doesn’t make it fair to keep me here wondering if you’ll ever decide to show up.”

Cruella said all this to the ceiling, her arms crossed over her chest and her chin held up disdainfully. Ursula bit her lip.

She made it so fucking hard to feel sorry for her. Though Ursula suspected that was the point.

“Sorry, I didn’t realize you wanted me to call back. I was talking to my dad and got distracted, that’s all.”

“Why, so you could lie to his face and keep using all his money?”

Ursula could have hit her.

“What the fuck is your problem? I came here to help you-”

“I don’t remember asking you for a damn thing!” Cruella said, and now she was looking at Ursula head on. “You came here because you don’t trust me to do a fucking thing for myself, and it’s insulting!”

“I did not, Cruella! I came here because your husband threw you out and someone is making up stories about you and-”

“-and you know they’re made up?” Cruella asked. “You _know_ that?”

Ursula stopped and stared at Cruella, whose face was flushed. At Ursula’s silence, she exhaled so sharply she seemed to deflate.

“Cruella, whatever they are, it’s not right, what he did,” Ursula finally replied. “I know that.”

“There’s not even a little bit of you that came back here because you wanted a good look at me after you were told I was born a lying, heartless murderer?” Cruella hissed.

“No!”

“You’re a fucking liar,” Cruella said, turning away from her.

“I told my dad about me,” Ursula said without thinking, and Cruella turned on her heel. “And you. Just now. He, uhm...he said if you needed anything...he’d help.”

“He wasn’t upset?” Cruella said, frowning.

“He was. I could tell. I could see it,” Ursula felt tears coming, and she stared at the bed next to her, trying to blink them away. “But he was okay. He was okay.”

Cruella made a strangled sort of “oh” sound before falling into silence. Ursula would have given anything to not be crying in front of her, but it couldn’t be helped. Now that she’d started, it wouldn’t stop.

“What kind of pizza is it?” Cruella asked loudly, more to the room than to Ursula. She went over to the desk table and lifted the box’s lid. “Well, it’s got everything, hasn’t it? You want some?”

This was directed at her, and Ursula looked at her face, suddenly the furthest thing from disgruntled or contrary. She tilted her head expectantly at Ursula.

“I thought you weren’t hungry,” Ursula said.

“Changed my mind,” Cruella set a slice on a paper plate and looked at Ursula, plate outstretched. “Yes?”

“Okay,” Ursula said, taking the plate. Cruella smiled before picking out her own slice.

“That’s better, darling. You stop crying and eat. And I’ll eat. And then we’ll talk.”

“How about you call Sofie first? Anita told me-”

“Oh, you’ve been talking to her, have you? You’re a snoop, you know that? I’ll call her after. Promise. But you have to promise me that next time you try and bring food to cheer me up, you tell me what you’re getting. Because you always forget I don’t eat artichokes unless they’re in a dip.”

“Just pick them off.”

“They leave a taste, and I don’t like it,” Cruella sat down on the bed and motioned for Ursula to join her.

“...it was Bruno dying that did it-” she said suddenly, picking artichoke leaves off of her second slice. Ursula said nothing, and Cruella stared at her plate before continuing. “I was eight, then. And he’d bitten me the week before. Just...snapped right at my hand and caught my finger between his teeth. This finger, right here,” Cruella held up her right ring finger. “I swear, it doesn’t ever bend right now. Like it’s rusted.

“And mother said it was my fault, for bothering him. As though it were his house and not mine. And then he was dead, four days after. He’d gotten into the trumpet flowers. You’d think my mother, who knew everything, wouldn’t have been stupid enough to have them planted so low, where dogs and children could reach them. But anyway...the brute was dead, and everything was better.

“They don’t look dangerous, though, the flowers. They’re really very beautiful. And they’d gotten rid of Bruno, so how bad could they be? And Mother didn’t even move them after it happened. She just got another dog. That was how she was, you know. Just get another. Spill a cup of coffee on the carpet? New rug would come in the next day. I used to break things for the fun of it, once I learned that.

“And then...it was a Sunday because Father was home and reading the paper...I got a pair of scissors thrown at my head for cutting up one of mother’s magazines. He was a professional bully, as far as I ever knew. Had an office in town, was always there...and Mother loved him even though he hated me. Hated me. And I got a gash in my head right here,” Cruella gestured vaguely to her left temple. “-and I thought, wouldn’t it be nice if he was stupid enough to go down to the garden and eat those flowers and die right there in the grass. And Mother would have to get a new one.”

She stopped, then, and Ursula knew she was waiting for her to say something.

“So you...you did poison him?”

Cruella turned her head as though she might look at Ursula, but thought better of it and continued to eye her plate.

“Yes. Nearly got myself killed in the process. That’s how Mother knew I’d done it. Because the flower got everywhere, you know. All in my hands and eyes and I was sick for a week after. At first she thought maybe I’d done it accidentally. She cleaned the whole house and sent the dogs away.

“And then she brought a replacement to the house, just like I thought she would. Only he looked at me and he knew.”

“Knew what?”

“He knew I was the reason the house was cold,” Cruella said vaguely. “Mother didn’t need to tell him. Then _he_ died-that was after they moved me to the attic-she shouted at me then. God, she screamed so loudly I could hardly breathe. She did that all the time. Just took all the air out of the room and my chest would squeeze up tight…”

Again, she stopped, though this time Ursula didn’t know if she was meant to say anything. But the silence got to be too much, and finally she spoke.

“You said he died. Did you…?”

Cruella looked up this time, though her eyes went past Ursula, as though to look out the window. Only the blinds were closed, so she couldn’t be.

“You can tell me,” Ursula said. “Or you don’t have-”

“I don’t know,” she said, still intent on the window. “She said I did. And he died. But I don’t know. I might have. And then when the next one died...I thought, you must have. But I don’t know.”

“If you don’t remember, then why do you think it was you?”

“They both died, didn’t they?” Cruella met her gaze, then. “ Just dropped dead.”

“But people die, Cruella.”

“And sometimes it’s because other people kill them.”

“What about now?” Ursula asked. “You haven’t hurt anyone since I’ve known you. You think you just lost the ability?”

“I told you I don’t know. And _I don’t know_. I’ll never know. And neither do you.”

“But you can’t believe your mother. She locked you up in the house, didn’t she? And told you you were dangerous and crazy? What kind of person does that?”

“I don’t need you to tell me my mother hated me,” Cruella spat out, a flash coming into her eyes for a moment before dying, leaving a glaze of tears in its place. Her fingernails were digging into her palms, and Ursula saw bright, tiny beads of blood forming on her hand.

“Hey, here…hold mine, okay?” Ursula grabbed her hands and held them, palm up. Cruella blinked and looked down with wide-eyes. “You see that? You’re hurting yourself.”

Cruella nodded and accepted Ursula’s hands.

“You want to keep talking?” Ursula prodded after a moment. “I won’t say anything. No arguing. Nothing.”

Cruella shook her head.

“You promised you’d call Sofie,” Ursula said.

She made no reply, her hands maintaining a grip on Ursula’s, though she spared Ursula the bite of her nails. Her eyes lingered on her own thumbs as they passed over the backs of Ursula’s hands, and Ursula could see her chest rise and fall with the motion of her fingers. Only when they stopped did she speak, still looking at her hands.

“Can we bring her here instead?”

“Yeah. I’ll call Anita.”

“Ursula…” Cruella’s voice trailed off, but Ursula knew what she was asking, what she needed to know.

“We’re fine,” she said, giving her hands a final squeeze. “We’re so fucking fine, Cruella. Eat your pizza.”


	9. Chapter 9

**Four Years Ago**

“And that’s why you broke the plate? Because you were worried you’d put something in the sandwich you shouldn’t have?”

“The plate broke because I dropped it.”

Cruella recoiled from her own deflection. She’d seen enough films to know that such an answer would only result in a disgruntled eyebrow raise and a scribble on a notepad. Only Dr. Hopper wasn’t using a notepad, so he must scrawl things down in his mind. Anyway, he _did_ raise his eyebrows before speaking.

“And you dropped it because…?”

“I had to leave the room in a hurry, and it didn’t quite make it onto the counter, I suppose.”

Now she was daring him to say something. Perhaps he’d even send her out. Then she’d never have to come back to his wretchedly cold office and have him stare at her without even a notepad to distract him.

He sat forward in his chair, his brow knit. “And what did you leave the room to do?”

“I went outside. Not past the porch. It was raining.”

“And what made you come back inside?”

“She was crying,” she said, looking down at Sofie, who was playing with the dollhouse in the office. “And then she came out and her foot was bleeding. So I had to clean everything up. And after that it was all right. Until he came home, and then I knew it’d just be the same thing today.”

“‘He’ being your husband, yes? What happened?”

“He thought it was ridiculous. That I’d fired the nanny and the next day here she was with her foot bleeding out because I’d been daft enough to leave her alone with plate shards on the floor. And he said, ‘what’ll it be tomorrow? Concussion? Food poisoning?’ And that’s when I knew it wouldn’t ever be better.”

Now she’d gone and said entirely too much. He’d tricked her, somehow, with those concerned eyes and that ugly sweater-vest.

“Can you explain that to me?” he asked.

“Can I _explain it to you_?” Cruella asked bitingly. “Tell me, darling, what did you go to school for? Learning how to ask ridiculous questions?”

“All right,” Dr. Hopper nodded and sat back, and Cruella realized she might have foolishly done exactly what he wanted her to. “Let’s move on, then. Why did you decide to come here? What does it mean to you?”

Cruella was afraid to answer this time, so she adopted a look of disdain and glared at him. After a few seconds, he spoke, unperturbed.

“Is that not a fair question, either?”

“Well, given what we’ve been discussing and all those papers you had me fill out, I’d think the answer to that would be obvious, darling.”

“Why don’t you humor me?”

Cruella sighed and looked at Sofie, who was still gabbing away at the dolls.

“If I don’t figure this out, she’s fucked.”

“Do really think she’s in any danger from you?”

“Did you not just hear what I-”

“You told me you panicked because you couldn’t remember what you’d put in her lunch. Now, do you think it’s very likely that you went and put something dangerous in it?”

“I wouldn’t have remembered if I did,” she replied, after a blink.

“But you _do_ remember considering the possibility immediately afterwards. You remember running out of the kitchen in a blind fear. You remember bandaging her foot and cleaning up the mess. But you think it’s likely you simply don’t remember deciding to poison your step-daughter?”

Again, Cruella remained silent, though this time she didn’t look at him. He waited for a brief moment before speaking.

“This is about you being able to see yourself as competent and in control. This was never about actually hurting her. This is about you hurting yourself, and that’s finally starting to look like an impossible option. Because of Sofie.”

She wanted him to stop, but she now knew she couldn’t ask him to, couldn’t leave with Sofie in tow. Because he was right, damn him. And if she left she’d never have the courage to try it again, and it would all go back to the way it was before. So she sat and waited for him to continue. He didn’t need her answers, she realized. He never had.

“You see, when we are able to help our own mental and emotional health, it does improve our relationships and our ability to be better people. But it has to start with you deciding this is what you want for yourself.”

“I’ve never been any other way,” she said after a silence, not quite knowing why.

“What do you mean by that?”

“I’m a wretched person. I used to...the first thing I remember doing, ever, my first memory...I had a vase of flowers, and I must have dumped it all out on the carpet-I don’t remember that part-but I was sitting there, my dress just soaked, ripping petals off of this flower. And my mother came in and started shouting, and I just kept on doing it until she took it out of my hands.”

“And that strikes you as holding some symbolic meaning?”

“It’s all I ever done. Turn things over and ruin them.”

“Looking at what you’ve already told me, I’m guessing most of the time these actions are self-destructive. Would you say that’s correct?”

“I’ve never wanted to die, if that’s what you mean,” she said quickly, not sure if it was true.

“Not exactly. But let’s...let’s turn to a more immediate concern for you: feeding her," Dr. Hopper gestured to Sofie. "And we’ll get that taken care of. Put your mind at ease with that. What do you think?”

“You’re the professional, darling.”

* * *

 

**Present**

“You do realize I’m going to make you move that fishtank?” Cruella asked, setting her nightbag down on Ursula's bed.

"What are you talking about?"

"The giant fishtank right across from your bed. With...what is that, an eel?" Cruella stepped towards tank, only to jump back when another monstrosity slithered out from behind a rock. "The one with two eels, Ursula! The massive tank with two fucking eels in it. That's what I'm talking about."

"No, I know there's eels. I just don't see why it matters."

"It's _disgusting_."

"Well, then you go ahead and move it, Cruella."

"You want me to move it? By myself?"

"I moved it in here by myself. I'll take out the eels for you, even. All you have to do is empty the rest and move it. And then I'll put everything back in."

"Well, all right. As long as I don't have to touch any-"

The buzz of the doorbell stopped Cruella. Seemed to stop everything, in fact. Even the eels' writhing came to a halt. They sat in the water, still ominous as ever, though Cruella now found she'd much rather look at them than anywhere else.

"That'll be her," Ursula finally said. "I'll get it."

And then she was gone and the eels began to swim again. They didn't pay her any attention, though Cruella continued to glare at them.

_They really are nasty things._

"She's just in here..." she heard Ursula say, and she forced herself to turn from the eels and face the doorway.

"What _has_ she done to your hair?” .

Sofie had barely come into the room, but it didn't matter. Cruella wasn’t an expert at many things, but starting a conversation on her own terms was one of them. She had a pile of stock comments ready made, one of which was always bound to suit the situation at hand. The moment she saw that Sofie's hair was in braids, she sprang.

“She said she wanted it up-” Anita said

“Yes, well, you clearly don’t know how to do it properly. Come here,” Cruella gestured to Sofie. “I’ll fix it.”

Sofie only stared at her, clever enough to know something was being evaded.

“Well, all right, if you want it to stay like that, then...”

She had hardly moved to sit on the bed when Sofie scrambled to her side.

“I want you to fix it,” she said, her voice trembling.

“Of course you do, darling," Cruella said, motioning for Sofie to join her. "I know you try, Anita. But this is a travesty.”

Which was only half true. Anita’s attempts betrayed her own daughter’s preference for unfettered hair, but the braids were hardly abysmal. Nevertheless, Cruella undid the work without mercy, running her fingers through Sofie’s hair to create a blank slate.

She was still small, but she’d once been smaller. So small that the first time she’d ever asked for braids “like Mommy does," Cruella had nearly refused out of fear.

She’d broken dolls before, as a child. Ripped the head off of one her mother gave her not two days after receiving it. The eyes wouldn’t shut at night, she remembered. And so there’d been nothing else to do.

“Dolls and children are different, Cruella,” Dr. Hopper had told her. She hadn’t believed him, but he’d made her try anyway, right there in his office.

He’d been right, of course. The girl was real in a way the unblinking doll hadn’t been. Her babbling voice and warm head and constant jerking about made her alive. And so it was all right.

“Are we gonna go eat soon?” Sofie asked.

“After this, I’m sure. We have pizza now, if you want.”

“Is it a kind I like?”

“You like every kind of pizza. And if there’s something you don’t want on it I’m sure Ursula will take it off for you.”

Ursula picked up the cue.

“You want a slice, Sofie?”

Sofie nodded, and for the briefest moment, Cruella thought she'd managed to avoid any upset. Then Sofie, upon receiving her pizza, sighed.

“I don’t like these things,” she said, poking at a green pepper.

“Well, here,” Ursula said. “I’ll take them off for you.”

Sofie watched the process for a few seconds before kicking her feet and letting out a groan.

“I’m hungry!”

“I know, I’m getting them all off for you.” Ursula’s tone was even, but Cruella felt her own cheeks begin to blush and her fingers shake.

“I don’t want that!” Sofie cried out, shaking her head.

“Darling, will you hold still?”

“I don’t want you to do it!” Sofie pulled away, then, and turned to face Cruella, knocking the plate of pizza out of Ursula’s hands in the process. “I don’t like you right now! You went away, and I didn’t even get to sleep at all.”

Cruella stared at her, unable to speak.

“Sweetie, come here,” Ursula said. “We’ll order something, like the other night. Remember?"

"But it won't come for forever-"

"I live closer to where they deliver from, so it won't take long at all. Actually...you know what? Why don't we just go ahead and pick it up and bring it back? Go on a little adventure. Just you and me."

Sofie contemplated the offer.

"Can I listen to my Frozen CD in the car?" she said.

"You have a Frozen CD? Well now we have to go, right?" Ursula broke out into a smile and gave Cruella a look of encouragement that only succeeded in making her feel worse.

The doorbell buzzed again, and Anita jumped at the sound. Ursula frowned.

"Let me answer that...and then we'll go."

Sofie nodded, placated by the prospect of Frozen and french fries. Ursula left, and Cruella found herself avoiding Anita's disgustingly sympathetic gaze. She didn't know if she'd ever felt so useless in her entire life.

As preoccupied as she was, Cruella didn't notice Sara Lexington's entrance until the bedroom door slammed, shutting them all in.

The rabbit-faced woman was snarling at her, probably saying something vile...but Cruella couldn't quite bring herself to care.

"Darling," she drawled. "How nice of you to join us. Ursula was just going to-"

"-Jesus Christ, are you listening, you fucking nut?!"

_Always a pleasure._

"Not at all, darling," she replied.

"I asked you when you were going to tell me you had my kid here."

"Clearly I didn't need to, darling. You have a unfortunate habit of turning up even when you're not wanted."

Sara glared at Ursula. "Are you okay with this? Or do you just go along with it so you can keep sleeping with her?"

"You need to leave," Ursula said, her voice low. "This is my apartment-"

"And that's my fucking kid! That is my fucking kid! What, did you people steal kids now, too?"

"Mommy, stop!" Sofie wailed.

"You really want her?" Sara said, turning to Cruella. "You really think that'll work out for everyone?"

"Mommy..." Sofie's voice was full of tears.

"I really am getting tired of hearing you speak, darling. You're very shrill. So if you could get to the point-"

"-fine. I'm taking my daughter. Right now. And if you think you can stop me, just go ahead and try. Sofie, let's go."

"But I don't want-"

"We're leaving! Get your stuff."

"She doesn't want to go," Cruella called out, still perched on the bed, not quite looking at anything.

Sara ignored her, and Sofie's whining turned into outright shrieking in a matter of seconds.

"Mommy! Mommy, stop it! I don't want to go, I don't-Cruella, make her stop it!"

Cruella's head snapped towards the scene of chaos she'd done her best to ignore. Sofie was half on the ground, one wrist tight in the grip of her mother's hand. Ursula was standing in front of the door, her hands in fists. Cruella had no doubt that she would swing one if Sara dared take a step towards her, and that would be the end of it.

"She doesn't want to go with you," Cruella repeated, now standing to approach Sara.

"Stay away from me," Sara growled. "Sofie, get up!"

She shook Sofie's arm, which made the girl howl. Cruella's eyes flashed.

"You're going to hurt her, just let her go. We can talk about this."

"I don't talk to crazy bitches who steal my kid," Sara said, giving Sofie another shake. "Will you get up?!"

"You're going to rip your own daughter's arm off because you can't bear the thought that maybe she'd rather be here with me than with you," Cruella growled. That made Sara stop. She loosened her grip on Sofie, who yanked her hand away. It was enough. She would listen now, Cruella knew it. And yet, she didn't stop.

"You spent nine months carrying her, pushed her out, and then became such a miserable failure at everything else that she'd rather be here with me. Her crazy bitch stepmother. With her girlfriend. In an apartment with a giant tank of eels. She'd rather be here with me than with you, and that will always be true. So you go ahead and drag her out of here, darling. She'll come running back. Because you're a garbage excuse for a mother, you will always be a garbage excuse for a mother...and she'll never forgive you for it."

"Fuck you," Sara spat out. Cruella delighted in her shaking figure and piercing glare.

"Is that all? How disappointing-"

Then Sara had her by the hair, and everything fell into disorder as she spun about the room.

Three voices, almost at once, screamed "stop it!" And Sara did, shoving Cruella straight into the side of the eel tank. Her head bounced against the glass with a thud, and she reached out for something to stop the fall, choosing the topmost edge of the tank. As she steadied herself, she could hear Sara behind her, now in an altercation with Ursula. Too dizzy to move, she simply rested her head against the glass, almost forgetting the frightful things living on the other side.

And then something came at her from behind, and she fell forward, taking the tank with her. The resounding splash and crack that came caused a stillness immediately following it.

Cruella lay right in the middle of the wreck, though she could see that the "something" which had knocked her over had been Ursula and Sara, who had both fallen over as well. She looked at one of the eels, now making futile hops on the soaked carpet. She closed her eyes, breathing heavily, trying not to think of how her clothes would never recover from the water damage.

She looked up to ask Sara if she was finished with her histrionics but was met with a gaze of horror.

"Oh shit. Holy shit. Someone call...Sofie, get back."

Cruella stupidly wondered if one of the eels had somehow managed to make itself threatening. She chanced a glance back at her hopping companion and noticed it was bleeding, cut by the broken glass.

Ursula pushed Sara out of the way and stepped gingerly across the glass towards her. Her arm was bleeding.

"Your arm, darling, it's-"

"I know," Ursula said, her voice unnaturally pitched. She looked back. "Will someone get me some towels from the bathroom? They're under the sink."

"Well, it doesn't look so bad as all that," Cruella said. "Just a scratch, you know. It's the carpet I feel sorry for."

Ursula nodded, her breath shaky. She glanced up at Cruella's head and then back down to her eyes. Cruella felt something on her temple tickle. She reached a hand up to her head wildly, only to stop centimeters from the skin.

"It's okay," Ursula whispered. "Don't touch it. It's okay."

Anita came with the towels, and Ursula had one pressed up against her head in seconds. Cruella gasped as the rough fabric touched the wound, and for the first time she felt genuine pain.

"It's okay, it's not that bad," Ursula said, once again glancing behind her. "Is someone calling?"

"The eels are going to die," Cruella said.

"What?"

"The eels. The two giant fucking eels, Ursula," Cruella said, blinking away the stinging sensation in her eyes. "They're going to die."

"Yeah," Ursula muttered. She picked up another towel and held it to somewhere on Cruella's inner thigh. "Actually, can you hold this one? I have to..." Ursula scanned Cruella and bit her bottom. "Can you just hold this one for me?"

"I don't want to-"

"-you don't have to look. Just..." Ursula took Cruella's hand and set it on the towel. "...press like that. Hard, okay? Good. You're fine."

Ursula was shifting about now, and Cruella tried her best not to think about what she might be doing. She could feel the blood pooling out now, and that somehow made her less frightened. It had to stop eventually. If she just waited.

Then she realized she hadn't heard Sofie in all the chaos.

"They're going to leave," Cruella said, in a voice hardly more than a whisper. "She's going to leave with her."

Ursula said something in response, but Cruella didn't hear. She didn't hear anything for a long while. She felt the blood, the towels, her own rattled breaths. She saw the men coming to take her away, saw the ambulance...she even saw Sofie out of the corner of her eye as they took her out. Or she thought she had...things had begun to grow blurry.

At any rate, she wasn't in water soaked carpet and glass anymore. Which was something not to be taken for granted. She closed her eyes almost in conjunction with the ambulance doors closing.

All she had to do was wait.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The delay in this chapter is entirely Cruella's fault. I wanted some very important emotional things to happen. Cruella was not ready for that, and she made that clear in every attempt I made to get to the place I wanted. Most of this chapter has been written for MONTHS, and the end just wouldn't work for me. 
> 
> After a while, I realized it was just too early for certain things to happen. Cruella doesn't move under low stakes. So it came to this...maybe next time!


	10. Chapter 10

**Eighteen Years Ago**

 

“You deliberately disobeyed me!”

The headlights of Killian’s departing car flashed momentarily through the window, and Ursula shuddered. She managed a glance up at her father before realizing, for the first time that night, that she reeked of cigarette smoke. She hadn’t been smoking herself, she wouldn’t dare risk her voice...but her father wouldn’t believe that. He wouldn’t believe a word she said.

“Dad, I-”

“Do you understand how worried I was? I had no idea where you’d gone. No way of contacting you.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t-”

“You know, I thought, for a little while there, that you were growing up and out of this nonsense. But you’re still running off, without a care in the world for anyone but yourself...like a child. It’s unbecoming, Ursula. It’s beneath you.”

She could feel herself shrinking as he spoke, her whole being closing up as her father continued his tirade.

“I meant to be home earlier, Dad, but-”

“I don’t care what you meant to do! You weren’t to go out tonight in the first place! Or is that not what I made very clear?”

He finally went quiet, and Ursula felt her breath hitch her in throat for a moment before she spoke.

“Dad, I have to tell you something.”

“I’m not interested in any excuses-”

“Killian took me with him.” She winced at the words. They weren’t the right beginning. It would take too long now, she’d never keep up the nerve. Perhaps she shouldn’t have said anything.

“You roped him into this?” Her father’s back stiffened. “At least he was there to make sure you didn’t do anything stupid.”

No, she wouldn’t be able to say it. There was no question about it. Ursula looked up and met her father’s piercing gaze, hoping that perhaps she wouldn’t have to say it at all.

“Dad…”

Yes, that had done it. Her father’s face went dark with understanding for an instant. Then he coughed, nodded, and turned to the stairwell.

“You’re grounded. Three weeks.”

Ursula followed after him in a panic, though something about the entire situation felt dreamlike, unreal.

“But what about-?”

He looked at her, two steps above her on the stairs, and blinked before answering.

“Misunderstandings happen between young people all the time.”

“A misunderstanding?” She could have collapsed. None of it was real. It couldn't be. 

“Yes. Especially in these circumstances.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Well, I suggest you try a little harder to understand. Because it doesn’t get any easier from here.”

Ursula didn’t say a word after that. She didn’t make a sound as she packed up her things, and by the time morning came, there was hardly a sign that she’d ever lived there.

 

* * *

 

 

Ursula had never sat in a hospital waiting room for hours on end before. She hadn’t realized how dull it became after about the second hour. Cruella, she’d been told, would be fine in time. So all there was to do was wait. Ursula leafed through the first magazine she’d perused about two hours ago. It hadn’t been all that interesting to start out with, and she dropped it back onto the table with a sigh. She was just about to get up for her fifth cup of coffee when she looked up and saw Gold smirking at her.

“Gold?”

He merely nodded and sat down in the chair next to her.

“How did you-?”

Gold’s grin became more menacing for the briefest instant before fading entirely.

“I heard about your little incident, and I figured I might be of service. You know I specialize in family law?”

“Yeah, well I’m not the one the who needs a lawyer,” Ursula said, her voice like ice.

“No, no. Not yet,” Gold replied. “But your _friend_ does. And, as I understand it, you’ll be the one with the money to buy that lawyer. I’m just saving you both time by coming to you first.”

“Well, why don’t I wait to talk to her and we’ll see what she has to say about working with _you_?”

“You really think she’ll say no?”

He was right, damn it. Whatever else he might be, Gold knew what cards he could play and when. And Cruella might need that, after all.

“What’s your plan?”

“If we can get Robert Feinberg working with us, we can get this all settled without much of a fuss.”

Ursula’s eyes narrowed. “How do you plan on doing that?”

“If he gets everything else there is to get from a divorce, I can guarantee he’ll cooperate.”

From what she knew of Robert, Ursula could well believe that was true. “And her mother?”

“Not as straightforward. Courts favor biological parents. But not impossible. Her mother has broken the terms of her current custody agreement on numerous occasions, and fortunately for you, a good handful have been documented by my wife. On the whole, I’m sure Mrs. Feinberg has every right to be quite pleased with what she’s getting. The sum total of which will likely be the child. The question is, what are you looking to gain from all this?”

“Me?” Ursula said, with a sudden awareness of what Gold meant. Of what all of this meant.

Gold smirked and nodded. “Surely it hasn’t escaped your notice that if all goes as planned, the soon-to-be Ms. de Vil will have a child in her custody. Are you prepared for that?”

“Of course,” Ursula said, with a bravado she didn’t quite feel.

“And what about New York? Your plans?”

“Well, we’d have to figure it out, like everyone does,” she said, her voice faltering in spite of herself.

“Can I offer you some advice?” Gold said, and for a moment Ursula saw something in him soften. “Problems become easier to solve when you stop assuming you have to do all the subtracting.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“If there’s something you can’t give up, say so.”

He didn’t wait for Ursula to reply before walking over to the coffee machine, leaving her suddenly breathless. She shook off the sick feeling developing in the pit of her stomach and rushed to her car.

Before she knew it, she had arrived at her father’s church, part of her mind still trapped in her conversation with Gold.

Her father was standing in the back of the church, reading over some papers. It looked as though the place were being redecorated, for what Ursula didn’t know.

“Ursula!” he said as she walked in. “This is a surprise.”

“Dad, I have to ask you a huge, huge favor.”

Her father sighed, though the corners of his mouth were turned up. “What is it now?”

 "My...Cruella needs a lawyer. It’s a custody thing, super complicated...she needs Mr. Gold.”

 “And you need me to pay for it?”

 Before Ursula could reply, the door to the back of the church opened, and a man walked out, carrying a handful of pink paper. He was handsome and dressed in a leather jacket, and for a moment Ursula wondered who he was. Then his blue eyes met hers, and she took a step back.

 “Did you want these flyers in the pews or in the bulletins?” he said to her father, before truly registering her presence. Then he glanced at her again, and she saw his Adam’s apple jump in his throat. “Oh. Ursula.”

 “The bulletins, please. Thank you, Killian.”

 Her father grinned at Killian, and Ursula could have screamed. Instead, she grabbed his shoulder and whispered, though Killian was by this point far out of earshot:

 “What is he doing here?”

“Killian? He’s been the head of youth ministry for about three years now. I thought I’d mentioned it…”

“No,” she managed to say. “You didn’t.”

She wanted to leave, but something inside of her kept her glued to the floor. A sense of obligation, perhaps. But to who? She wasn’t sure.

“Is something the matter?” her father asked, and suddenly that something inside of her disappeared, anger taking its place.

“Do you even remember what happened with him? Or do you just not care?” Her voice was still low, but there was a bite in it, now. She felt something coming, something final. She was afraid of it, but not as afraid as she was angry.

“Oh, you mean the misunderstanding,” he said, still smiling. She could have torn his lip from his face for it. “That was years ago-”

“It wasn’t a misunderstanding, and I don’t care how long ago it was.”

He stopped smiling, then. But that only made it worse, for now Ursula knew what was going to happen, and she wasn’t afraid.

“Is he not entitled to make mistakes?” he said, though his voice was trembling. She didn’t think she’d ever heard it do that before. “I seem to recall you making a fair few at that age.”

This time, it was Ursula’s turn to smile. She nodded her head and looked at her father.

“I did. Still do. But not this one. Not anymore. I’m going. And I’m not coming back. I’ll get to where I need to go without you.”

Her father stood there for a moment as she turned and began to walk away. Then his voice came from behind her, booming as ever, though tinged with an unfamiliar panic.

“And who is going to pay for Gold? You storming out like you’re fifteen again won’t help your friend.”

She turned to him, lifted her chin half up to the ceiling as though she were Cruella, and said:

“I said I’ll figure it out. And when I do it’ll be none of your goddamn business how.”

 

* * *

 

 

Ursula’s sense of exhilaration lasted only halfway through her drive back to the hospital. Then, at a red light she nearly missed seeing, she slammed to a halt, and the jolt brought her back to reality.

She’d failed to get what she wanted. What Cruella needed. And there would be no other way to get the money, not right away. She’d owe Gold the rest of her natural life, barring some massive success on her part.

And then what? What was left for her to do? Did she even want a kid? Sofie was great, of course she was. And part of her wanted to give someone else the family she herself had lost as a child.

But that meant leaving New York behind, at least for some time. Cruella wouldn’t have any money. They’d have to stay in Storybrooke, especially now that her father was out of the picture. Save up. Plan. All the things boring people with children did. God, what on earth had induced _Cruella_ to want to put up with all of it? Had she really grown so much that she suddenly craved the stability she’d always abhorred? No, that wasn’t it. She probably didn’t want any of it.

What Cruella wanted, perhaps, was something else that came with all those horrible things. And she had been willing to bet that whatever that something was would make those horrible things worth it.

She was probably right.

But was _probably_ enough for Ursula? Probably was a terrifying word. She could _probably_ find a way back to New York in the next few years. _Probably_ she could learn to parent. _Probably_ everything between her and Cruella would be fine.

But it might not be. She might be stuck forever, might find herself trapped. She might fall out of love. Or she might go to New York right now and find that she was miserable there too. There wasn’t a guarantee, a sure thing. And there never could be.

A wave of sadness hit her, then. It reminded her of when her mother had died and she’d sat in church, praying and praying for something that could tell her--without a doubt--that her mother was in Heaven waiting for her.

It had never come. It would never come, she eventually realized. Not in life, at least, and only maybe in death. She had to choose which doubt was easier, which belief mattered more. She still went back and forth, sometimes talking to her mother as though she were constantly by her side, and sometimes rejecting the idea altogether. Somehow both were true, at different times.

But that was all of life, she supposed. And it didn’t matter if you knew, you had to pretend you did. Or accept that you didn’t, and do something anyway.

She arrived back at the hospital, more sober now, but settled. She knew what she needed to do, knew which belief she had to choose. If not for forever, for now.

Gold was still in the waiting room when she arrived, flipping through a fashion magazine. She sat down next to him, and he grinned before so much as looking at her.

“Ursula. Back again?” He picked up his coffee cup and took a sip.

“I’m going to need some patience with the money situation,” she admitted. “But I’m good for it, you know I am-”

Gold circled the edge of his cup with his forefinger. “Do I?”

“I said I’d pay, and I will,” Ursula insisted. She hoped her voice wasn’t trembling as much as she knew her hands were.

“There’s no need to look so confrontational. We can work something out, I’m sure.”

Ursula nodded, relieved for a moment before she remembered who she was dealing with.

“And you’re not gonna screw me over on interest,” she added. “I don’t know a lot about how these things work, but I sure as hell can find out before you rope me into signing anything.”

Gold let out the faintest hint of a laugh. “Look who’s got some legs of their own. You don’t need to worry yourself, Ursula. I’ll be more than fair. You’re a coworker, after all...as is Mrs. Feinberg. And we all want that child to be in a proper home. There’s few things on earth that can’t be worked out, somehow or other. If you’re sure this is what you want?”

He cocked his head to the side, and Ursula went quiet for a moment before answering.

“There are a lot of things I want,” she said. “A whole lot, and I can’t have all of them and I’m not sure which ones I’ll end up liking the best. Or if I’ll choose wrong and fuck everything up. So I’ve usually just let other people decide for me. That way, if it goes wrong I’ve got someone else to blame. Someone else to fix it. I’m not doing that anymore. I’m choosing something, and if I’m right, it’ll work out. And if not...I’ll just have figure it out.”

She didn’t know why she’d told Gold that, except for that he was there and she finally had something to say that mattered.

“Well, that seems to be a solid enough basis for starting a family,” Gold replied after a pause. “Guesswork.”

Before she could protest, he held up his hand. “Don’t worry, Ursula. I’ll draft up a contract, we’ll have some consultations...everything will work out. I know you’re enjoying this new-found existential doubt of yours, but I hope you don’t mind: I come with some very solid guarantees indeed.”

* * *

 

“Oh, God, please don’t look at me.”

That was the first thing Cruella said when Ursula entered her hospital room, and Ursula laughed. She did look quite torn up, though she was awake and talking, which was something.

“Is now really the time to be vain?” Ursula joked, and she sat down on the chair next to Cruella’s bed. Cruella looked confused before shaking her head.

“No, I mean, I...I went and fucked up your apartment and killed your nasty pets, and...just basically ruined everything. Your meeting in New York. And now I’m a mess, and you’re going to think you have to stay here...” she trailed off for a moment before steeling herself for the next words. “And I don’t want you to.”

Ursula shook her head. “I’ve already talked to Gold-”

Cruella looked as though she might be sick.

“Not that wretched man! He’ll-”

“-make sure you get Sofie. You know that.”

“But we can’t afford him.”

“It’s gonna work out.”

Cruella shook her head, furiously. “You don’t even want this. I don’t even know if _I_ want it. I mean, look at me...I’m not meant for this, darling. It’s going to get me killed.”

Ursula smiled and took Cruella’s hand. “That’s what happens either way, you know? However you live, whatever you pick...it goes in the end. Kind of sucks.”

Cruella frowned. “Is this supposed to make me feel less queasy? Because I have to say, it isn’t working very well.”

“Well, it’s good too, right? Because there’s no pressure. No one knows anything, so you just guess. And it’s okay, in the end. It just goes on, whatever happens. And it’s nice that it does.”

“Is it?” Cruella said, doubtfully, but she squeezed Ursula’s hand anyway.

Ursula laughed. “I just mean that what’s going to happen next is just...us trying something new. Because the other stuff didn’t work, and maybe this will. And I think...I hope...it’s gonna be good.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, here it is! The last official chapter of The Show Must Go On (to be possibly followed by an epilogue if inspiration catches because there's some things to answer still, no?). Sorry for writing a rarepair fic and finishing it nearly a year and a half after everyone has moved on! Thank you to everyone who has read, commented, and enjoyed it. For all its faults and starts/stops, I've grown terribly fond of this fic, and I appreciate so much everyone's encouragement and enthusiasm regarding it.


End file.
